


Crushed Petals

by Hannigrammatic



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: <3, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Attempted Murder, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Character Death, Developing Relationship, Dry Humping, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Horror, Jealous Hannibal, M/M, Murder, Murder Family, Nightmares, Poor Will, Possessive Hannibal, Slow Burn, Violence, Will Graham Has Encephalitis, Will's dogs are safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-04-23 13:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 85,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4878826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannigrammatic/pseuds/Hannigrammatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zombie!Apocalypse AU~ </p><p>“Is it very bad?” Hannibal’s voice had raised just a slight octave. “And it was the dog, yes? The dog bit you, not the thing?”</p><p>“What? Yes. It tried. Hannibal, wha-”</p><p>“Be quiet. Please. I will be there momentarily.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Metal Pipe

**Author's Note:**

> No beta! Haven't written anything in quite a bit :") I had a LOT OF FUN writing it, so there will most likely be more for sure~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The line went dead. Will cursed, winced as the wound in his leg grabbed his attention, before cursing louder. He tied the cloth tightly and staggered to his feet. It took him a while to find his gun, but he did, gripped it tightly, and approached the door, unable to listen to his dogs snarling and barking any longer.

Day 1

Will pressed the cloth tighter against his leg, breath seething out in a hiss between lips pressed together tightly in pain. His jittery fingers had dropped the handgun on his way back into his house, somewhere between his bed and the kitchen, where he now crouched on the floor.

But it wasn’t the pain that bothered him, and he felt tears pricking at his eyes as his breath hiccoughed. Outside, the dogs were still barking and growling, snarling threateningly at the the thing that had stumbled out of the tall grass and onto his property. He’d tried to corral them into the house after getting a closer look at the shambling figure -eyeless, reeking of decay-, but had failed, tripping on his own feet in his shock, and the thing had been on him in seconds. 

The blur of the following seconds caught up to him just now. How he’d kicked it off of him, scrambled backwards while trying to remove the gun from its holster at his hip. _Fuck_ , he thought absently. _What if I hadn’t had my gun?_

Sitting here now, clutching his bleeding leg, mind scrambled, Will tried to put everything in order so that he could attempt doing something, anything. In the end, the anything was decided for him, as his phone rang just then. It was obscenely loud to his adrenaline-pumped senses, and his heart jumped in confusion as it took him a moment to figure out what was happening.

“Hello?” he grit out, finally managing to answer after dropping the cell a few times.

“Will, are you okay?” the steady, accented voice on the other end inquired.

“Wha- I think. Hannibal, something just attacked me. The dogs are fucking losing it.”

“Take a deep breath, Will. Please. I’m on my way.”

“What? Why? Are you okay? Fuck, I can’t get them inside. Winston bit me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Is it very bad?” Hannibal’s voice had raised just a slight octave. “And it was the dog, yes? The dog bit you, not the thing?”

“What? Yes. It tried. Hannibal, wha-”

“Be quiet. Please. I will be there momentarily.”

“Hanni-”

The line went dead. Will cursed, winced as the wound in his leg grabbed his attention, before cursing louder. He tied the cloth tightly and staggered to his feet. It took him a while to find his gun, but he did, gripped it tightly, and approached the door, unable to listen to his dogs snarling and barking any longer. He didn’t care that Winston had bit him, he knew they were just as scared as him, but he was not about to leave them to be hurt by whatever the hell was out there.

****

Hannibal clutched the steering wheel of his Bentley with whitening knuckles, foot shoved on the gas almost violently. Around him, the city was in chaos. As pragmatic as he was, as logical as anything in life must be, for once, the good doctor had no idea what to think or do beyond getting to Will Graham.

He was a man that looked after his own, no matter what the circumstances were.

Normally slicked-back hair was a mess on his head, blood matting the right side where he’d hit himself apparently harder than he’d thought. His entire body was quivering with too much energy, anxiety that he hadn’t felt in so many years. The brief phone call to Will had assuaged some of it, but there was very little that could entirely calm him as he tore through the city.

It was incredibly difficult to tune out the screaming, the carnage, the panicking crowds, and sirens in the distance. He’d shattered the driver side window to bypass any potential struggling with unlocking, unmindful of the expensive vehicle in his situation, and just drove. In and out of traffic that was partially stalled as the city attempted to evacuate, over sidewalks, through parks, he had no care. He was en route to Wolf Trap, Virginia, and there wasn’t much in the world, even now, that would stop him.

He had to see Will Graham. He had to make sure the man was alright.

****

Winston whined, nervously pacing. Will had grabbed him bodily to get him into the house, and any other dog he could reach, weaving in and out of the way of the thing. It was bleeding, or something similar to that, great gouts of black ichor pouring from the gunshot wounds peppering its body. The gunfire had done nothing to calm down his poor strays. Two had taken off entirely into the fields.

It wouldn’t die. Or stop. Four hits, two in the chest, one in the throat, one in the shoulder. His aim was already atrocious, but he’d hit it, at least. The force of the hits knocked it down, yes, but still it stumbled to its feet. Endlessly. Will shuddered, sitting on the end of his bed, head in his hands and heart in his throat.

_What the fuck_ , he thought. 

It was the mantra in his mind. His hand reached out blindly for the nearest dog, burying his shaking fingers in soft fur while he tried to even out his breathing. It took him several long moments to even acknowledge that he was safe for now, much less able to breath, but eventually he looked up towards the door, blocked off by anything heavy he could move. Outside, the thing puttered around on the porch, slamming into the door occasionally, glimpsed through the curtains at one point.

Will couldn’t make himself study its face anymore. He couldn’t do much but let his brain take his body on a wild fucking ride of emotions he couldn’t for once in his life put a tag on. He remembered his conversation with Hannibal but couldn’t tell how long it had been since it had occurred. He didn’t know if the man was really on his way here, and didn’t spare too much time thinking about it. He was exhausted and overloaded, and he wanted to curl up and sleep for a year straight.

 _What the fuck._  
_What the fuck._  
_What the fuck._  
_What the fuck._

“Will!” a voice shouted.

Will jumped to his feet in a panic, and the dogs went wild again. Snarling and scratching and whining. An undeterminable amount of time had passed as he sat there rocking back and forth and sweating and confused. But Hannibal was here now, apparently, shouting from outside. 

Outside.

****  
Hannibal’s car came to a skidding halt in Will Graham’s driveway, and he was out of it seconds after, clutching a gun in the one hand and a bag in the other. His used to be impeccable suit was in disarray, tie undone and discarded on the drive here. His sharp features were pushed into an emotionless mask, but his heart was hammering against his chest.

He saw the lack of dogs, of Will, and while that was a relief in that there were no bodies on the ground with all the black stains painting it, he would not be sated until he saw the FBI profiler for himself. Approaching the house slowly, Hannibal shouted Will’s name again.

“Will, it’s me. Are you alright?” he barely refrained from yelling, tried to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was hard now that he was here and things were quiet and still and not screaming and dying and packed.

Hannibal barely managed to leap out of the way when the thing finally made an appearance. It jumped clumsily from the underbrush nearby, but it was the gurgling sound that alerted Hannibal before the sight of it itself. He grit his teeth and backed away, nose scrunching in disgust. It smelled like a large amount of rotting meat, with an underlying sweet scent, decay rearing its head. It was overall a very unpleasant thing to see and smell.

Mostly it was absolutely terrifying.

But Hannibal was undeterred. He planted a booted foot into the center of its chest when it came near again and shoved it back hard, regarded as it flailed and tripped on the steps leading up to the porch wrapping around Will Graham’s house. Lifted the gun and levelled it at what he was certain was a fucking zombie, and wasn’t that just fucking amazing? 

_I cannot stand not knowing exactly what is going on right now. Where the fuck is Will._

His thoughts were interrupted by the door slamming open. Hannibal looked up sharply, gun still aimed at the thing that was attempting to gain its feet. 

Hair mussed, blue eyes wide and panicked, jacket half off, Will came out, favoring his right leg and wincing with the effort of keeping the dogs inside. It was a struggle that seemed to take forever but was in reality only a few seconds passing, and time suddenly sped up as Hannibal watched the man he had driven through hell to get to snarl much like one of his dogs, a metal pipe held aloft.

The sickening crunch of it meeting the thing’s head woke Hannibal from his near-trance, and he took a step back, gun lowering as Will Graham bludgeoned the fuck out of the monster screeching on his porch steps. Black blood spit everywhere, pieces of face and bone and eventually brain splotched the area as Will very nearly screamed with the effort. The dull clank of metal meeting flesh was nearly music to Hannibal, as he imagined very very briefly that this was a different time, a different place, and not a thing between them being veritably destroyed, but a victim at the end of a hunt.

The thought was very fleeting.

Will could hear his blood rushing in his ears, pulse a drumbeat he unconsciously mimicked in his movements, panic forcing its way out of him in something akin to inhuman anger. He hated being helpless. He hated anything helpless being hurt. His fucking dogs could have been hurt and two of them were still gone. Winston had bit him. The emotions surging through him were too much in too little space, and the last few hours -it must have been hours?- had hit him when he’d heard Hannibal outside, out there, with that thing.

 _What the FUCK_ , he thought angrily. 

“WILLIAM!” a voice yelled, and suddenly Will found himself shoved, not too hard, but enough to dislodge him, enough to make him trip back into one of the beams bracketing the steps. 

The metal pipe had fallen from his grasp and clattered down said steps to lie in the dirt. Will blinked, panting loudly, and glanced at the man standing next to him now, having stepped over the gore. A gun was in Hannibal’s hand, pointing downwards. Will blinked again, lips pushing together tightly.

“Are you with me, now?” Hannibal questioned, tone even.

“Yeah. I think. Is it fucking dead?” Will didn’t want to look down; he found Hannibal’s eyes after looking him over shakily, and then did not look away.

Hannibal’s expression was deadly calm. Lips thin, brows drawn tightly, eyes a beacon. Will licked his dry lips and tried to focus his breathing as he took in the sight of his therapist and friend standing before him. It was almost comically ridiculous seeing how unkempt Hannibal looked, but it was sobered by the blood staining his light-colored hair and oozing down his neck, by the fancy clothes wrinkled and fussed, by the gun in his hand.

“Will,” Hannibal said in answer. “Let me see your leg.”

“Wha- Hannibal, it’s fine. It was the dog. Winston - I don’t know. He panicked. I just tried to grab him is all.”

“I don’t care about the damn dog right now, Will. Come.”

Will couldn’t find it in himself to argue or grow offended at the statement. He let himself be lead by a soft touch on his shoulder back into his house. Sitting on his bed again now, he looked up at Hannibal and could no longer figure out how to feel, what expression to make, what to do. The dogs whined still, no longer barking, some cold-nosing into his hand as he watched his friend Hannibal close and lock the door, doing nothing more than that for now. It was quiet out here, there was nothing else so far beyond the dead thing on the steps. And it was dead now.

****

Leg newly wrapped, after having been closely assessed and cleaned, Will laid back against his pillows and grunted. Hannibal was in the kitchen putting together something for them to eat, something to ground them both and nurture their bodies. The dogs were quiet and the sun was setting outside.

“What the fuck was that?” Will finally asked.

“I am unsure. But it’s not the only one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you have a radio, Will?”

“Well yeah, I do, bu-”

“Nevermind for now. You need to rest, and then we need to figure out what to do. Here.”

Hannibal sat on the side of his bed and handed him a bowl of soup, a spoon, and set a glass of cold water on the nightstand. He remained there, without any for himself, and took a deep breath. It irked him very much that he could not answer a one of Will’s questions. He could see the irritation painting the profiler’s features at being interrupted and seemingly dismissed. Truthfully, Hannibal was finally just calming down himself. Will was safe, next to him right now, right here.

That’s all that mattered for now.


	2. Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re in shock. You have no need to apologize, Will,” Hannibal murmured.
> 
> “Aren’t you?”
> 
> Hannibal looked into his eyes quietly. The doctor knew Will would glean what he needed from that alone.

Day 2

Hannibal awoke to the sight of Will fully dressed and shouldering into a jacket, gun holstered at his hip. He was pulling out the hunting rifle from one of the shelves he’d shoved away from the door, and was loading it expressionlessly.

“What are you doing?” Hannibal inquired, even though he knew immediately what his younger friend intended to do.

“Going to find my dogs,” Will deadpanned.

Of course. The older man tossed aside the light blanket that had covered him and stood from the recliner he had dozed off in what felt like forever ago. His head was pounding, but he’d cleaned the wound; however, there was not much he could do about his heart, still racing as it was. It was a terrible thing to be caught unaware, and to Doctor Hannibal Lecter, it was one of the worst things.

But Will was safe.

“You do not know what is out there, Will,” he began. “I believe your dogs will return home once they’ve calmed, at any rate.”

“I don’t care. And you don’t know that. The first or the second,” Will muttered. “I’m going to find my dogs. I’ll be back.”

Will was a stubborn individual, doubly so when it came to those he cared about, triple the unmoveable when it came to the strays he’d taken in as his own pack. Hannibal’s lips thinned as he considered what action to take. He could make Will stay here, he knew that. Physically, he was stronger than the FBI profiler. He could throw him down and strap him into a chair or onto the bed, incapacitate him. But those actions would do nothing to endear him to Will.

For his part, Will glanced over his shoulder at his psychiatrist, one eyebrow raised as if in challenge. He could feel the change in the air almost the instant Hannibal had considered not letting him leave, could see it in the sharp light of those dark eyes. Whether or not the doctor came to a decision didn’t matter though, as Will trudged to the door uncaringly. He was going to get his dogs back, and if he had to punch Hannibal in the teeth to do so, he would.

“Be careful, then,” Hannibal said, his own brow raised.

“I’ll be back,” Will repeated.

****

Shaking, Will raised the rifle to eye-level as he approached the familiarly disgusting-smelling creature crouched before him. It was quivering, kneeling down and making revolting smacking sounds -it was eating something, and Will felt his heart constrict. He was in range for a shot, knew to go for the head now (it was a fucking zombie, Will surmised, and he shuddered inwardly), but he hesitated.

This one wasn’t as rotted as the other had been. This one was a middle-aged woman, possibly one of his neighbours miles away. Her blond hair was stained black and red with mud and blood, and her clothes were torn and damp with more crimson. The gun shook in Will’s hands.

_What the fuck._

The rifle's blast was deafening, but he hadn’t missed. Her head exploded into gore and brain matter, body collapsing. Will approached slowly and grimaced at the cat that lay there half-devoured and now partially beneath the corpse of the woman. He was relieved that it wasn’t one of his dogs, but he’d still not found either of them, and if there were more where the woman had come from, he knew he had to return home soon. 

He remembered talking about it briefly with Hannibal last night, exhausted and drawn tense, laying in his bed with the blankets hitched to his neck and leaning against the headboard. He’d covered the window closest to him, as well as pulled the curtains on the other two by the door. But he had trouble not getting up every two minutes to look outside, worried more about his dogs than anything.

His friend and psychiatrist sat in the recliner and brought him up to date with what had happened, told him about the evacuation, about the creatures - the Things- that had overrun the city. Hannibal had said he was certain it wasn’t just Maryland and Virginia that this was happening to either. Will had buried his face in his hands and nearly wept.

What else was one to do?

When Will returned home at midday, he hadn’t encountered another thing-not-zombie (another inward shudder at the thought). He let himself inside with a quiet sigh. It wasn’t until he had closed the door that he realized Hannibal was not in the house, and one look outside showed Will that the driveway was empty save for his own car.

_Did he leave me?_  
_What do I do now?_  
_Why did he leave me?_

****

The sun was setting languidly when the sound of a car brought Will out of his racing thoughts. He strode to the window in time to see Hannibal step out of the vehicle, met his eyes across the distance and felt something loosen inside of him as they both found each other fine. Heart racing now, the FBI profiler considered the intense relief he felt at his friend’s return, knowing it for being less about being left alone in this new world and more about Hannibal being okay. He let out a breath loudly and opened the door.

“I’ve gotten us some supplies. Food, mainly. Perishable for now. Tomorrow we will venture into the city for canned goods and my own medical kit if my home has not been raided.”

“I didn’t find my dogs,” Will stated.

Hannibal pressed into the house and his own sigh, shouldering the heavy duffel bag. The younger man watched him head further into his home and disappear into the kitchen, before looking outside again. It was getting darker by the minute. 

Will stood in his kitchen moments later watching Hannibal put away the food he’d confiscated, moving around the small kitchen gracefully -always graceful, even holding a gun, even watching Will destroy the first thing out on the porch steps yesterday. Graceful and deadly. _He’ll keep me safe_ , Will realized.

“Your dogs will come home, Will,” Hannibal said suddenly.

The older man stood at the kitchen sink, leaning against the counter slightly and not facing Will. His broad shoulders were a strong line, hands clutched into fists, muscles of his forearms corded with tension that Will was just now picking up on. Belatedly, Will realized he was not the only one going through this shit right now.

“I’m sorry,” Will said.

“Whatever for?” Hannibal turned to face him finally.

“I just...the dogs. That fucking thing outside. Everything is jumbled and I don’t know what to do or say or think, I still feel like I’m caught in the moment, with the pipe.”

“You’re in shock. You have no need to apologize, Will,” Hannibal murmured.

“Aren’t you?”

Hannibal looked into his eyes quietly. The doctor knew Will would glean what he needed from that alone. But he was filled with the need to keep the air filled with words. For once, small talk was a comfort and not an annoyance -not that it ever was with Will Graham, granted. Still, Hannibal felt unbalanced and unsure at the feeling in his chest that urged him to tell Will all sorts of white lies like everything will be fine and that his dogs would return.

Truthfully, the doctor had no clue what was to happen, and he grew more tense still, staring into Will’s wide blue eyes, mouth a flat line. A part of him wished he could break so prettily like his younger friend. Nearly quivering with anxiety, thoughts on his face like a book, lips twitching as if unsure whether to frown or smile or snarl. His dark hair was in more a disarray than ever. His hands were wringing his shirt endlessly.

“I assure you that I am indeed in shock as well. We all express that emotion differently.”

“Don’t be a psychiatrist. Tell me how you’re feeling right now, Hannibal.”

The two men faced each other across the short distance for a time. The sound of the dogs whining interrupted the moment, and Will stormed back into the den to quiet the pack. Hannibal found Will standing at the door in the dying light, shaking violently, and the doctor approached him quietly.

Outside, several yards from the house, Alana Bloom staggered to a halt. Her dark hair wild, smart suit torn and stained, face pale and dead, she faced Will Graham’s house as if drawn to it.

 _She must have been on her way here_ , Will thought.

He didn’t realize he was sobbing until he felt a strong hand come to rest on his shoulder, inhaled and smelled Hannibal close behind him. Will shook as his face fought to pull into an expression, as he fought to stifle the sobs. He put a hand on the door to walk outside, but found he could not.

“Let go,” Will growled.

“This time I’m afraid I cannot allow this,” Hannibal shot back as his hand tightened on Will’s shoulder.

“Allow it? Are you my fucking keeper, Doctor Lecter?” Will hissed and turned to face the man.

Hannibal let his hand fall away as he met Will’s stormy gaze. For a second he allowed his eyes to stray outside to take in the sight of his former colleague shambling in place. His heart skipped a beat. _He’ll never know_ , Hannibal decided.

“Do you intend to put a bullet in her head, Will?” he asked instead.

“I wha-, what? What are you-.”

“That thing out there is not the woman you care for, Will. Alana Bloom is no more. I ask you again; do you intend to go outside now and put a bullet in her head?”

“How can you just-” Will snarled and shoved the doctor.

Hannibal stumbled very slightly, but stood his ground. He grabbed one of Will’s arms in a vice grip and did not intend to let go. The dogs circled them nervously, whining loudly, Winston barking not at the figure outside, but at Hannibal. Will panted for breath.

“I’m sorry, Will,” Hannibal said.

“She was coming here, wasn’t she?” Will whispered.

Sparing another glance at the woman-thing outside, Hannibal nodded. They both knew it, one more than the other knowing it as fact. Will Graham drew in a heavy breath and exhaled falteringly. There was no fight left in him now, no bunching him up. The FBI profiler’s countenance and body sagged and he stopped fighting the silent tears tracking his face.

Hannibal had the younger man against his chest seconds later, arms wrapped around him tightly. Will let out a keening wail that was cut short when he buried his face against his friend’s chest. He clung to the only thing left that made any iota of sense in his life desperately.

Outside, the sun finally sank below the horizon.


	3. Torrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m going to shoot her,” he told Hannibal after finding his friend leaning against the counter again, made sure to meet his dark brown eyes and get his point across, and felt suddenly that he was telling himself too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't forget this story! Getting back into the groove of it! Please note that I love Alana very much, I didn't kill her off easily.
> 
> All mistakes are mine ♥
> 
> NOTE: Lyrics from Hybrid by Elsiane.

Day 3

 _There is no light out of all the places_  
_There is no sign of our help_  
_There is no time and a chance of relations_  
_What if I choose to live? Living in a dangerous womb_  
_It’s like falling every moment every stage_  
_Living in my own little world._

Will hadn’t slept a wink. At some point during the night he had pulled a chair up near one of the windows to look out and watch Alana’s corpse amble around aimlessly. Hannibal sat up from the recliner again, stretched and winced at sore muscles that had bunched up in the awkward position he spent his nights in. He stared at the back of Will’s head and fought the sigh that wanted out.

“You need to rest, Will,” he said eventually.

“No,” was the succinct and emotionless reply.

“Will,” Hannibal ran a tired hand through his hair but gave up, wandered into the kitchen to make some coffee.

The electricity still remained on, but Hannibal had no doubt it wouldn’t be that way for much longer, stations left unmanned, the subworld of technology falling apart faster than the actual one. People took it all for granted so easily, Hannibal included, but he was a survivor and could adapt, had adapted to every situation life threw at him. As the machine burbled he walked into the bathroom to run cold water over his face, and stared at himself in the mirror as droplets fell down his features. His was not the face of panic and anxiety and despair, like Will’s was. Hannibal grinned at himself, admired the glint of his sharp teeth, before walking back into the kitchen.

When he returned to the front room, Will was sitting in the same position. He came to a stop behind the FBI profiler to hand him a mug of steaming coffee, glad at least that that was accepted quietly. Outside, the sun rose beautifully, painting the sky in oranges and reds and yellows, flame alighting as it would again and again no matter the chaos below. He wondered if he should shoot Alana, give her a ‘real’ death, as it were. It was common knowledge that Will had cared for her very deeply, had perhaps loved her, and Hannibal remembered the young man barging into his office to profess that he’d kissed her, a time that felt like it was now years ago and not mere weeks. Sipping at his own mug of coffee, Hannibal closed his eyes.

“We have much to do today, Will,” he said. “I wish you had gotten some rest.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Will’s voice was heavy with emotion, almost petulant. Hannibal opened his eyes and stared at the back of Will’s head again.

“What doesn’t matter?” he asked finally.

“All of it. The dogs. Going to your house,” Will took a mechanical sip from the mg and gestured faintly as he spoke, but his eyes were still watching the figure outside that had not left during the night.

“It matters. Will, stay with me,” and now Hannibal touched his friend’s shoulder, gripped it only loosely. “I know you are grieving right now, but you cannot just give up like that.”

“Why not?” Will finally moved, stood in a rage that exploded out of him seemingly from nowhere, but Hannibal knew it had been stewing.

The mug went flying and smashed against the fireplace, its hot contents soaking the stone and the hearth and the floor. Furred bodies jumped nervously out of the way and moved in a tide, coming closer to comfort their master. A cold and wet nose pressed into the palm of Will’s hand, and the anger bled out of him just as quickly as it had filled him. Hannibal’s nostrils flared as he watched Will fall back into the chair with a sob.

“She was coming here,” he cried out. “She was coming _here_ , Hannibal.”

“I know, Will. Please, come away from the window.”

With some coaxing, Hannibal finally succeeded in unseating the shaking man again. Wrapped a steady arm around Will’s smaller frame and drew him into the kitchen and then the bathroom. His movements were methodical and clinical, and he stripped Will’s clothes from his body and pushed him under a warm stream in the shower. They were both silent.

  
****

Will stared at the white tiles on the wall as the hot water fell on him. He didn’t move to wash himself, merely let the liquid burn into his skin and fall into the drain, turning brackish with dirt and grime. He hadn’t had any time to pay attention to his physical appearance, hadn’t realized he’d accrued so much filth, noticed in a jolt of awareness that there was blood under his nails. Closing his eyes tightly, he began to scrub his body almost violently. Afterwards, skin tingling and red, he dried himself and walked out into the kitchen clad in a towel.

“I’m going to shoot her,” he told Hannibal after finding his friend leaning against the counter again, made sure to meet his dark brown eyes and get his point across, and felt suddenly that he was telling himself too.

But he didn’t say anything else and walked into the front room, grabbed his rifle, and was reaching for the door when Hannibal’s hand closed around his naked bicep. Anger returned and bubbled over, and he shook Hannibal off bodily and pointed the gun quite suddenly in the psychiatrist’s direction, thoughts flying in every direction and body thrumming with the inability to compartmentalize any of them. Nothing made sense and his body was given over to pure emotion.

“Will. Put the gun down,” Hannibal’s voice was soothing.

Will blinked. Held the gun tighter and raised it towards Hannibal’s face, watched the muzzle shake slightly, and felt something inside of him shatter. His breath pushed out of him in a gasp and he shuddered as he dropped the weapon, realized very distantly that he was in the midst of a very bad panic attack, had been for a long time, all night perhaps. The dread and confusion and gouging pain of finding Alana Bloom dead -or no longer existing - had trapped him in a spiral of panic and undoing.

“I’m sorry,” Will sobbed and reached for his friend.

He scrabbled and gripped the strong chest, shoved his face into Hannibal’s neck and sobbed against his friend. The feeling of those arms encompassing him once more undid Will all over again, and he cried and cried, gripped at Hannibal’s shirt and shook his head and shook just in general, body quivering with emotions finally unleashed entirely. His friend supported his weight silently, uttering a single soothing hiss against his ear when he began to apologize incessantly, and, after a short while, Hannibal began to move them both in a gentle rocking motion.

Finally catching his breath, Will pulled away and faced the window again. He had no time for embarrassment when he realized the towel had fallen at some point, and he stood there stark naked. A small part of him felt bad for any discomfort he could have caused, but he realized that pointing a rifle at someone you called a friend kind of overrode the small fact of not wearing clothes. He did get dressed at that point, dragging out a blue flannel long-sleeved shirt and simple jogging pants. Then he turned back and looked at Hannibal, whose face was unreadable but whose countenance was pliable.

“I’m going to do it, Hannibal. I have to.”

Hannibal remained silent but nodded once.  
  


****

The door closed with a quiet click as Will left the house. The dogs laid in their beds after being soothed by their master with quiet words and soft exhalations of comfort. Hannibal stood where he had the entire time, the ghost of Will’s naked and shivering form pressed against him, and he finally closed his eyes with a gusty sigh. So pretty and broken and helpless. A lamb taking its first wobbly steps. Hannibal opened his eyes with a smirk no one could see, and moved to join his younger friend outside.

The morning light was bright and beautiful, painting the grass a shimmering emerald. A breeze tossed Will’s hair just a bit, rumpled his clothes as he gripped the rifle in sweaty hands and adopted a wide stance after approaching the husk of Alana Bloom. Hannibal had spent a long time wondering about his former colleague last night, him and Will both watching her pace almost nervously, the closest her body managing to come having been halfway down the driveway. Limited knowledge on the whole situation was bad enough, but the inkling of the possibility of Alana still being alive even a tiny bit had sprung and bloomed and turned Hannibal’s thoughts dark. She certainly didn’t look any different. Her pale skin was white and windburned, and the bright red gash of her slit throat was a striking contrast. Her eyes, the most telling part, were faded and grey and sightless.

She’d died her first death while struggling to get out of her crashed vehicle. Legs having been twisted painfully, car door dented and pinning her in place, Hannibal’s knife cut into her delicate skin, and Hannibal’s eyes stared into her own wide ones when the light left them.

And yet, here she was, and even as Will got closer, she still didn’t do much more than tilt her head and open her bloodied teeth in a soundless snarl. Hannibal ran a hand through his hair as the wind picked up, finger-combed it back into place, and took a few steps across the grass to bring himself closer to his friend, who finally leveled the muzzle of the rifle, finger slipping along the trigger, both hands supporting the heavy weight of the big weapon shakingly.

“I’m sorry,” Will whispered again, but not to Hannibal this time.

The single gunshot rang out obscenely loudly in the morning air. Hannibal lowered his head at the resolute tone that Will’s voice had taken on, and tore his eyes from the back of his friend’s head to watch Alana’s face explode in a gout of gore. Her body shuddered and fell into a heap with a disgusting thump, and her blood painted the blades of grass that embraced her final, real death.

“I’m sorry,” Will said again, louder.

The gun dropped with a clatter, and shortly after, so did Will. He landed on his knees and slumped there, watching the body of his former friend and colleague and brief flame bleed out. Hannibal approached him with silence and knelt behind him to set a hand on his shoulder once again, rubbed his thumb against the collar of his shirt and against his neck in a motion that was both soothing and indicative of his presence. He looked at what Will was looking at, but felt nothing, was the opposite of Will’s shivering form and chaotic thoughts. Hannibal moved closer and wrapped his other arm around Will’s waist, pressed his fingers into the fabric of his flannel, and held him against his chest tightly. Will’s tears soaked his face and dropped into the grass below, and his head dropped back against Hannibal’s shoulder.

After stuttering out another heartbreaking apology, he screamed. It was a sound of pain and grief and anger and it was loud and drew his voice hoarse quickly, but he didn’t stop.

And even when he did, on the inside he never stopped.


	4. Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Where are my dogs, Hannibal?” Will asked as charged after Hannibal’s retreating figure.
> 
> “They are safe at your home, Will. I could not bring them with us, I apologize,” the accented tone drifted behind the older man as he walked into his pantry.
> 
> Will cast a cursory glance around the familiar kitchen. Like the rest of the house it was trashed, furniture upended and smashed, cupboards opened with its contents stolen or strewn about.

Day 4

Hannibal nursed a blooming bruise on his jaw the next day as he drove away from the little house in Wolf Trap, Virginia. Will lay unconscious in the back of the car, curled up with his knees against his chest and his head pillowed on a crumpled jacket. In the end it hadn’t been easy convincing him to leave, even just to make a trip into the city to take stock of what had happened and to visit his home in Baltimore, Maryland. Hannibal knew it had more to do with leaving his remaining dogs behind, but it just wasn’t practical loading them all into the Bentley and lugging them across several miles of tragedy and danger.

The FBI profiler had taken one look at the syringe in Hannibal’s hand earlier, the soft claim of ‘it’ll help with your nerves’ sounding to him like a threat instead, and hissed much like a threatened cat. A day had been wasted already, however, with his friend’s mourning of Alana Bloom and his disinclination to abandon his pack of animals. And he was in such a state of panic and shock after shooting her that Hannibal honestly just wanted to help. Mostly -it was becoming rather apparent that Will Graham didn’t intend to do anything other than mope around his little house. They had no time for games. The world around them had fallen apart in a matter of days, and Hannibal did not intend to die. And he refused to let Will expire, to let him roll over and let everything happen.

So with a succinct jab following a brief scuffle, Hannibal had depressed the plunger of the needle and flooded Will’s bloodstream with a tranquilizer, not even flinching when a shaking fist barreled into his jaw and sent him careening away from the younger man. He’d straightened and stood a few feet away as Will swayed, glaring at him with cloudy blue eyes, before stepping forward primly to catch the other when he lost consciousness. 

Perhaps a bit too much, Hannibal surmised as he glanced at the curled form of his friend through the rearview mirror. 

****

Baltimore burned steadily. Smoke trailed into the air from various buildings dotted around the city, and Hannibal snarled silently behind the wheel of his car as they neared his home. He lived within an expensive estate, his neighborhood that of financially successful individuals, and his sizeable house stood tall and ominous when they pulled up into the driveway. 

Will twitched awake at the first touch against one of his knees, confusion glazing his eyes, and he looked around with his heart slamming into his throat and blood a deafening thump in his ears. His brain felt sluggish and filled with liquid, and his limbs were heavy and stiff, but he figured out pretty quick that they were no longer at his house. The door opened to his left and large hands latched onto him to drag him out and to his feet, steadying him gently and smoothing down his arms before the older man strode away.

“My dogs,” Will started, and then he stopped and looked around.

The house next door had been gutted open with a crashed SUV, and a bloodied figure sprawled half out of the driver’s side window. It was flailing and hissing, and Will’s stomach clenched unpleasantly. Of course none of it could have been a dream. He inhaled shakily and turned on the spot, taking in the surrounding neighborhood grimly. It was quieter here compared to the city, but he could hear distant screaming and soft explosions, and a few yards down the street a man strode purposely in and out of houses with a shotgun clutched in one dirty hand. He paused outside of the door into one, catching sight of Will standing there, and raised one hand in silent greeting before disappearing into a dark doorway.

“Will!” a voice called. “Please follow me.”

Will turned around and found Hannibal staring at him beseechingly, a tick of impatience at the corner of one of his brown eyes. He strode towards his friend with his guts twisted in fear and anger, remembering in a rush what had happened with Alana the previous night. He’d stayed awake pacing and crying intermittently for a long time afterwards, and early in the morning he sat on the floor with his dogs, stroking their soft furry bodies and nuzzling into their warmth. Now he stood miles away thanks to Hannibal, and Will felt a growl perching under his chin when anger flooded his system. He banged through the front door of his friend’s house and slammed it shut behind him.

“Where are my dogs, Hannibal?” Will asked as charged after Hannibal’s retreating figure.

“They are safe at your home, Will. I could not bring them with us, I apologize,” the accented tone drifted behind the older man as he walked into his pantry.

Will cast a cursory glance around the familiar kitchen. Like the rest of the house it was trashed, furniture upended and smashed, cupboards opened with its contents stolen or strewn about. He could feel anger wafting off of Hannibal in waves at the indignity of his home being violated in such a way, but there wasn’t much anyone could do. When society collapsed into itself and control snapped, looting topped the lists along with other unsavory actions. Shaking his head, the FBI profiler followed the other into the pantry, and froze with his mouth open.

“You are about to learn something I’d have rather revealed to you with more time,” Hannibal said as he opened a trapdoor casually.

“You have a secret laboratory?” Will asked, joke dying as he narrowed his eyes and descended the stairs after Hannibal.

The basement stretched into darkness, and when fluorescents switched on Will sucked in a breath and held it between his teeth. Sterile stainless steel surfaces glimmered back at him, and chains hung from the ceiling in the center around a hanging plastic sheets. It resembled the classic serial killer’s abode, a hidden floor devoted to death and pain and other atrocities. Hannibal strode into the center room carrying a large leather satchel.

“You,” Will opened his mouth and then closed it a few times. “Hannibal, what is this place?”

“What do you imagine it is?” the older man tilted his head and took a few steps closer.

“I don’t know,” the younger man stepped back reflexively, unable to wrap his brain around the present moment, a feeling of nausea carrying bile up into the back of his throat. “Are we going back to Wolf Trap?”

“Yes, I told you that I merely required a few things from my home,” Hannibal narrowed his eyes and stopped a foot away. “You are more concerned about your dogs than where you find yourself presently?”

“I’m less concerned about everything other than my dogs,” Will grumbled. “They’re all I have left now. And I’m still missing two of them.”

“Your lack of survivability is stunning,” the older man commented, mouth twitching. “Not to mention -am I nothing to you, Will? I’ve been operating under the impression that we are friends.”

“You drugged me and forced me to come into the city with you,” Will growled and took a step closer. “You don’t get to pull the friend card right now, Doctor Lecter.”

“I did what was necessary for us both.”

Before he could open his mouth to argue, Hannibal took the stairs two at a time back up into the house. Will exhaled loudly and followed, one hand clutching at his aching head. Any semblance of normalcy would have been appreciated, but between Alana and his dogs and the disbelief at their present moment, making sense of anything became an ordeal he just wasn’t prepared to handle. Add to that the terrifying hidden basement he’d stood in seconds ago, and it became enough to overcrowd his slow brain as the tranquilizer still lingered in his body.

“Do you think you can carry this?” Hannibal asked softly, gesturing to the satchel. “I wish to retrieve as much food that remains as possible.”

“Yeah, sure,” Will huffed. He accepted the bag and felt his body sag under the weight, too tired and confused to unclasp it and investigate. “What is going on, Hannibal?”

The question lingered unanswered in the air as the older man charged in and out of the pantry and the kitchen, where he left Will standing at the island counter as he shovelled any amount of food into a large duffle bag as possible. Will tried to track his friend’s movements but soon gave up and stood helplessly in the kitchen, staring at the shattered frame of a painting that littered the floor. It wasn’t until they were walking out of the house several minutes later that Will remembered the man with the shotgun.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” the dirty man greeted them.

He looked to be in his early forties with graying auburn hair swept back over his head. He was taller than Hannibal, wider than them both, and his clothes were torn and bloodied. His green eyes, however, were thankfully sane as he came to a stop before them as they walked out of Hannibal’s house. He looked between the two of them almost cheerfully.

“And to you,” Hannibal inclined his head politely. “Do you have any information on what is going on, sir?”

“Not any more than you two likely do,” the man shrugged and pointed his gun at the ground. “World ending, the dead walking. Zombies, I guess. Honestly I’m under the impression I’m just having a very bad nightmare.”

“Same here,” Will said quietly. “Nothing feels real.”

They three men were silent for a long time, Hannibal shouldering the heavy duffel bag of frozen meat and any goods that he had managed to locate, and Will holding the leather satchel at his side limply. The stranger looked from one to the other again, and Hannibal inhaled once, taking in the scent of uncertainty and fright. No threat or danger, not yet. Perhaps this man merely sought survivors and not looting or violence.

“You guys should probably get out of here,” the gun wielder said, meeting Hannibal’s eyes almost as if he’d heard his thoughts. “There’s already a few gangs causing shit around the city. Won't be long until they’re back here doing another sweep.”

“What about you?” Will asked haltingly.

“Come, Will,” Hannibal interrupted, and he closed a large hand around one of Will’s biceps hard, dragging him towards the Bentley without further comment.

“We can’t just leave him,” Will protested, catching himself on the door and holding his ground when Hannibal shoved him none too gently. “Hannibal-”

“That’s quite enough, Will,” his friend’s voice lowered dangerously and Will’s mouth clicked closed in shock when he was bodily moved into the passenger seat.

Green eyes studied them both as the man stood there with the shotgun still pointing at the ground. Will looked at the stranger in shock even as Hannibal started the engine and backed out of the driveway. They tore down the road at a gathering speed, and Will craned his neck around and watched silently until they drove out of sight and the solid figure disappeared. Then he looked at Hannibal with his nostrils flaring.

“We didn’t have to leave him,” he said, catching the other’s brown eyes with his own angry blue ones. 

“We cannot afford to be generous, Will,” Hannibal said plainly.

“He might have known more,” the FBI profiler argued. “He might have been able to help.”

“He would have been an extra mouth to feed and nothing more,” the doctor gripped the steering wheel hard and maneuvered them around a horrific crash site.

“I can’t bel-” Will cut himself off and gaped at the wreckage of the city around them, no longer unconscious and unaware of the true chaos. “Oh god, Hannibal. What is going _on_?”

“I do not have an answer for you, Will,” Hannibal replied, tone tense and pale brows furrowed while he steered them out of the city.

On the highway the roads were clearer and not plugged up like most of Baltimore’s streets. There remained several stalled or crashed vehicles and crimson stains across the pavement. And, crawling and stumbling and reaching for them even as they drove past at several miles and hour, small packs of those creatures, those _things_ -zombies. Will shut his eyes and leaned his face against the passenger window.

****

Alana’s body had been covered. Will regarded the stained tarp flitting gently in the breeze as he stepped out of the Bentley, and he stood still with his heart aching. Hannibal had afforded this small mercy, and Will appreciated his friend’s actions even if he remained angry at the sting of a needle forcibly knocking him out of the waking world. A fleeting touch at his elbow drew the FBI profiler out of his thoughts, and he followed Hannibal into the house, each step lighter at the sound of excited barks. His dogs were safe.

“You should rest,” Hannibal said, carrying both the duffel and the satchel now.

“If I don’t are you going to drug me again?” Will inquired bitterly.

He sat on the edge of his bed in the living room and regarded his familiar surroundings with relief, hands stroking fur and scritching behind ears as his pack greeted him. Winston whined nervously and butted a cold nose into Will’s arm. Hannibal stood in the doorway leading into the kitchen and regarded them cooly.

“I did what was necessary,” he repeated and then he walked out of sight without another word.

Will buried his face in his hands and exhaled loudly, frustration filling every corner of his brain. He fell backwards onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling and listened to the sound of his friend puttering in the kitchen and putting food and other commodities away. _What the fuck_ , Will thought once more.

Nothing made sense, and now he remembered the basement at Hannibal’s house with a clarity that turned his blood into ice.


	5. Repudiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’ve been hiding under my nose the entire time,” Will said in a high-pitched voice, another giggle spilling out. “And now the world is ending and I know the truth.”
> 
> “I am happy to note that the world ending seems to be less of an issue than my proclivities,” Hannibal climbed to his feet again and rotated his neck and shoulders to coax the stiffness out of the joints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -flails around- No clue how long this story is gonna be but I love writing it ♥
> 
> All mistakes are mine~

Day 5

Hannibal found Will sitting on the dusty floor stroking Winston’s fur the next morning. It was early enough to be dark outside still, and the last embers of the dying flames in the fireplace flickered over his pale features. Shifting in the chair and discarding the threadbare blanket, Hannibal got to his feet and stretched his sore muscles, envious of the younger man briefly, to be lounging on the hardwood with his pack, legs curled under him comfortably.

“Have you slept?” Hannibal inquired, voice heavy and hoarse with lingering sleep.

Will didn’t answer. His calloused fingers continued to card through Winston’s soft fur, and one of the smaller dogs, Buster, snuffled into his lap and whined once. The shelves were pushed back in front of the door, a nightly endeavor, but neither of them had seen one of the dead things in a while. Having forayed into the city showed them enough chaos to last them, however.

“Are you hungry?” Hannibal asked the question even though he had a feeling Will wouldn’t respond.

He was partially correct. Will tilted his head as if listening, but instead of answering he began to laugh. It started as a quiet chuckle and grew into a loud, frantically hysterical laughter that filled the house abruptly, his messy haired head thrown back and blue eyes shut tight to the tears that dotted his eyelashes. Hannibal sat back down and peered over at his friend’s quivering form until the desperate sound faded into silent sobs.

“Will?” he debated walking over to comfort the distraught man, but the tinge of insanity clinging to his hoarse voice gave the older man pause.

“You’re the Chesapeake Ripper,” Will stated with a giggle.

He proceeded to laugh once more, loud and long and wet as tears fell from his eyes. Not being privy to his state of mind or what had clicked to snap Will into realizing the truth, Hannibal remained sitting. Will’s voice eventually petered off into gusts of breath as he panted into Buster’s fur, the small dog whining and shaking in his lap and pressing his nose into his owner’s hair with a snuffle.

“Yes,” Hannibal said. “There is no sense keeping secrets any longer.”

“You’ve been hiding under my nose the entire time,” Will said in a high-pitched voice, another giggle spilling out. “And now the world is ending and I know the truth.”

“I am happy to note that the world ending seems to be less of an issue than my proclivities,” Hannibal climbed to his feet again and rotated his neck and shoulders to coax the stiffness out of the joints.

“Are you going to eat me?” and here Will finally moved, nudging Buster out of his lap and getting to his own feet to stare across the short distance at the man he thought he knew. “Is that why you’re here? Fresh meat for when you run out? What then? Will you eat my dogs too?”

“That is ridiculous. You are my friend, Will. No harm will come to you at my hands,” Hannibal’s voice lowered as he felt himself suffused with anger -indignation that Will would think that of him, and for a long moment that feeling drowned his elation at finally being seen for who and what he truly was.

“Can a psychopath care enough to have friends?” Will asked and laughed darkly.

“Are you asking that of me or yourself?” the older man raised a pale brow as his voice dripped with vitriol.

Silence fell over them like a blanket. Will blinked at Hannibal as his pale face became stricken. Tension drew taut between the two men, and one of the dogs whined pitifully at the bitter scent of their anger. Will felt like a book snapped closed and tossed carelessly onto the floor.

“Fuck you,” Will growled. “ _Fuck you_.”

“Mature, Will. Incredibly mature,” Hannibal stretched again, rolling his neck and not looking away from Will’s angry eyes. “Are you quite done being childish?”

“Am I qu- Jesus, Doctor Lecter,” the younger man took a faltering step back from the man before him. “Like you have any reason to take the moral high ground in any capacity. You’re a fucking murderer.”

“Singular, yes. Isn’t it fair to say you are capable of being several murderers at once, Will?” the blow was low but Hannibal was feeling incredibly scorned, still angry that their friendship was being turned belly-up and gutted much like one of Hannibal’s victims.

“Wow,” Will said, and Hannibal almost regretted the question for the hurt that filled the younger man’s face in that instant -all too soon the man snarled and tore away from the living room and banged into the kitchen.

Hannibal looked after him with a huff of breath. He fought to calm himself, surprised at the amount of hurt that _he_ felt. A small amount of satisfaction nestled in his belly, however. Despite their painful exchange, Will hadn’t insisted he leave. Not that he would allow Will to remove him from the premises, of course, but it remained important to that deep part of him that Will would rather he stay.

****

Will locked the bathroom door behind him and sat on the tiled floor with his legs stretched out before him. His hair was hanging in his eyes as he looked down at his hands, watching his fingers clenching and unclenching, twitching in tandem to his racing heartbeat. With a shudder, he closed them tight into fists and hit his thighs hard, anger bubbling over with a sudden viciousness. He struggled to his feet and trashed his small bathroom, swiping aftershave and other bottles lined up haphazardly along the back of his sink. Will caught sight of himself in the mirror amidst the clatter of bottles smacking into the wall and on the floor, and he snarled at his reflection. Tears stained his cheeks and his eyes were reddened with emotion. 

Distantly, he could hear Hannibal’s voice on the other side of the bathroom door. Will ignored the man entirely and smashed one fist against the mirror, elated at the flare of pain that shot up his arm. He brought his hand down again and again until the reflective surface cracked, splintered, and then shattered, and by the time Hannibal managed to get the door open, shards of glass were raining down into the sink and the toilet. The older man shoved himself into Will’s space and grasped his arm by the wrist mid-swing, preventing the strike from completing its arc.

“Let go of me,” Will growled, and he heard his own voice as if through a tin can. 

“Will, that’s quite enough,” Hannibal tightened his grip and tugged Will away from the ruined mirror, manhandling him out of the bathroom entirely and commandeering him into the kitchen despite snarling insults and thrashing from the younger man.

Will staggered into one of the kitchen chairs when Hannibal pushed him into it, and instead of remaining seated, he was back on his feet immediately and barrelling towards his friend with a feral roar. Hannibal barely had time to blink before he found himself tackled to the floor, breath knocked forcibly out of him. He grunted as he bore the not inconsiderable weight of Will Graham, who sat astride him and raised his injured fist as if to bring it down on his face like he had the mirror. Heaving air in and out of his nose as his body thrummed in anger, Will almost did hit Hannibal, almost let go of all control and gave into the impulse much like a killer would have -a lesser one, of course. 

Not one like Hannibal Lecter, the Chesapeake Ripper.

“I spent so long trying to know you,” Will whispered. “And you sat there in your office and played me like you do your harpsichord.”

“You would have figured it out eventually,” Hannibal murmured up at him, brown eyes narrowed as he watched Will lower his hand. “Had none of this happened, you would have put the puzzle pieces together.”

Will slumped in defeat. He climbed off of the man’s midriff and walked into the living room, not bothering to even pay his dogs any mind. Instead he flopped face-first onto his bed and breathed heavily into his pillow, uncaring of his now bleeding hand. All of his anger and energy bled out of his body simultaneously, as well as any fight left over. Minutes passed without a sound, and then footsteps sounded, heralding Hannibal’s arrival. The mattress dipped slightly as the man sat down on the edge, and he retrieved Will's bruised and bleeding hand and dabbed a damp cloth over it, wrapping it afterwards in some gauze. It wasn't much, but it would do for now -likely Will would refuse anything else at this moment.

“I understand that this is a lot to take in, Will,” Hannibal said. “But there are far more dreadful things amok now. I am all that you have in a person presently.”

“I would have had Alana,” Will said after turning his face and pressing his cheek into the pillow. “She was coming here.”

Hannibal hid a frown, looking away from Will. When he’d slit her pretty throat, he had merely been acting on practicality -during a zombie apocalypse, a person with broken legs would not survive, and just as he had declined Will from helping the man back in the city, Hannibal applied this logic to his decision to remove his former colleague from the picture. He didn’t expect her to reanimate, however; she must have been bitten before crashing her vehicle. Hannibal comforted himself with that potential knowledge.

If she’d already been infected, then he’d done her a favor.

“I’m sorry about Alana, Will,” Hannibal found that he genuinely did feel remorse, not for the necessity of his choice, but for the fact that she had met such a grisly end at all. 

“Are you really?” Will sounded unconvinced.

“As a psychopath, am I unable to have emotions?”

Will turned onto his side and pillowed his head on one hand while his other freshly bandaged one stilled on the mattress. He looked at Hannibal seated near his knees on the side of the bed, staring at his profile and noticing the burgeoning bruise on his jaw. The older man was looking into the deadened fireplace, arms folded across each other in his lap.

“You’re able to. But you don’t. You just wear masks.”

Brown eyes met his as the older man turned to look down at him. They both remained silent for several minutes. And then, with an impossibly loud bang, something in the distance exploded, causing the little house to shake and shudder. Hannibal jolted to his feet, Will following shortly after, and the dogs were a flurry of barking and incessant whines. The younger man made it to the door and started shoving the shelves away from it, and after a moment of indecision, Hannibal helped. The sun peeked over the horizon now as dawn proceeded to crawl across the sky in hues of pink and purple and orange.

Will strode out of the house with the older man, fighting briefly with the nervous canines that tried to follow. Eventually he got the door shut and walked bare-foot into the grass. The two of them looked into the distance at the unnatural light blazing across the sky hundreds of miles away, almost as bright as the sun fighting to rise.

“What do you think it is?” Will murmured.

“Difficult to say,” Hannibal shielded his eyes with one hand as he observed the blazing of fire in the aftermath of the explosion far away. “A large vehicle, perhaps.”

As if in response, another explosion sounded, and then another and another, sounding like thunder and felt deep in their bones as well as deafening in their ears. Will reflexively reached out and closed one hand around Hannibal’s, feeling terror climb into his throat along with his racing heart. After a few more moments, one last explosion lit up the sky like fireworks, and Hannibal’s fingers entwined around Will’s tightly.

“Fucking hell,” Will said, voice tight with shocked awe. 

Hannibal echoed the sentiment with a nod meant more for himself. The two men stood in the grass holding onto each other’s hands tightly as the sun inched its way higher into the sky.

****

That night Hannibal lay on the mattress with Will, staring up at the ceiling. Their hands were still clutched tightly -the younger man had refused to relinquish his grip other than to set up their makeshift barrier across the door, nonchalantly retrieving Hannibal’s fingers again and tugging him into bed. The space between them remained, physically as well as emotionally, but Will appeared to be too exhausted to argue anymore. Afraid, too, the scent bittersweet and all too pervasive in the small living room, and Hannibal wanted to assuage the fear almost as much as he wanted to continue experiencing it.

“Don’t leave me,” Will whispered just then, and Hannibal turned his face towards his friend.

“I will not leave you, Will,” he said. “May I request the same of you?”

“I won’t leave. I promise.”

Will drifted to sleep shortly after, body relaxing in repose. Hannibal continued to look at stressed features and pallid skin, resisting the urge to reach out and smooth the frown away from furrowed brows. He returned his gaze to the ceiling and focused on matching his breathing to Will’s.


	6. Full Tilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Will?” Hannibal’s voice proceeded his presence before his strained face came into Will’s line of sight.
> 
> “You’re okay,” Will looked up at him and tried to make sense of anything other than the brown eyes looking down at him.
> 
> Hannibal’s face was bloodied and bruises were already blooming, and his bottom lip was split uglily, blood oozing down his chin in a smeared line.

Day 6

Hannibal slipped his hand from Will’s sweaty and sleep-loose grasp the next morning and strode into the kitchen. He cast a glance at the bathroom and considered cleaning up the shattered remnants of the mirror, but decided instead to start on breakfast. Will needed food, had been neglecting his health in all manner of ways, and even if he couldn’t soothe his friend in any other capacity, this way he could. It was an incredibly foreign emotion, to want to soothe anyone at all -at least genuinely. Hannibal took to it as he did anything new, however: thoroughly and expeditiously. 

When Will woke it was to the smell of scrambled eggs and bacon and buttered toast, the plate packed and hovering under his nose and offered by Hannibal, whose brown eyes were soft with sleep and his hair askew by the same. Will took the proffered dish and took up the fork balancing on it, looked into his friend’s eyes for another few seconds, and then tucked into his breakfast without a word, casting his gaze onto the quickly diminishing food. He hadn’t realized just how starved he truly was until now.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Hannibal inquired carefully, perched in a chair pulled up near the bed and digging into his own plate of food.

“As well as I can hope to feel, I imagine,” Will answered with a grunt, the unspoken _considering my friend is the killer I’ve been hunting and oh don’t forget, the world is in the throes of a zombie apocalypse_ lingering between them.

Will tore up pieces of bacon and tossed them to his hovering pack, raising a brow silently at Hannibal’s disapproving expression. This morning felt nearly mundane, _normal_ , just two friends sharing breakfast and not two men holed up in a small house in the middle of nowhere, with the twice-dead body of a woman covered by a fluttering age-worn tarp out in the front yard. Will set his empty plate on his lap and looked outside at the morning sunlight dappling the trees around his property prettily.

“We can’t stay here forever,” Will said absentmindedly.

“We cannot,” Hannibal agreed as he finished his own food. “But for now we must focus on the present. I’m going to go back into Baltimore today to investigate and to gather more food and supplies. We are yet safe here, secluded from the hoards within the city.”

“We need guns, too,” Will looked at his hands while he spoke. “Ammo. Weapons in general. We need to board the windows up as well.”

“Do you have a generator?”

“Yeah, out back. How long do you think it’ll be before the electricity is cut?”

“I’m unsure. There are many variables that I have yet to consider at length.”

Will set his plate on the nightstand and lay back against his pillow to stare at his ceiling. He didn’t want to leave the dogs alone again. Anything could happen while they were in the city, but at the same time he dreaded the thought of Hannibal there, alone. Despite the truths having been revealed, Hannibal Lecter really was the only person he had now. Will wondered what that said about him.

“Promise me we’ll come back,” Will muttered eventually. “I won’t leave my dogs.”

“I promise we will return. This location is currently the most ideal, Will. I believe we should remove some of the smaller trees around the windows and property so that we may see better, however.”

“I can do that tomorrow,” Will got to his feet and stretched, hunting down jeans and a flannel long-sleeved shirt, and he dressed in jerky movements before retrieving his rifle on his way to the door.

****

They drove out on the highway in Hannibal’s Bentley but stopped in the middle of the road at Will’s bidding. He climbed out of the expensive car and walked around it to the pickup truck sitting unmoving in the left lane. The door was opened and a body lay beneath it on the asphalt, torn asunder with gore and blood painting one of the tires of the truck and around the corpse in violent splashes that were now dried. Peering into the vehicle, Will found keys tossed almost casually onto the dashboard, and he looked over his shoulder at his friend. Hannibal had rolled down his window and was looking over at him.

“I’ll drive this. We can bring back more than with your car,” he informed the older man.

“Good. You’ll follow behind me, yes?” Hannibal adjusted the rearview mirror primly.

“Yeah. What are we going for first?”

“Planks of some sort, anything to board up the windows. Then fuel for the generator, I imagine. Guns, perhaps.”

Will nodded once and edged around the body to hop into the truck’s driver side. He curled his sweaty and shaking fingers around the keys and turned it, for a minute convinced it wouldn’t work, but the truck purred into life and grumbled while the door remained opened. Sighing, Will looked over at Hannibal again and nodded his head once more. He slammed the door shut and put the truck in reverse, edging away from the body on the pavement, and then he drove around it and maneuvered the vehicle behind Hannibal’s Bentley.

Their small procession trailed from the country into Baltimore an hour later, and together they stopped outside of a Home Depot.

All of the windows were smashed, and impaled on a jagged spike of glass was a corpse half inside and outside, carnage strewn around it as if someone had merely tossed it there for the sake of amusement. A few yards away there was a small group of deadthings bumbling around, bloodied limbs hanging limply at their sides and heads tipped back to face the sky as if they were enjoying the morning sun. Will hopped out of the truck and closed the door gently, rifle clutched tightly in one hand as Hannibal stepped out of his car and strode around it.

“I have a knife,” Hannibal said when Will glanced at the zombies and then to him. “I believe they are far enough to not bother with us currently, though.”

“You don’t really know anything about their behavior,” Will pointed out, and his guts gurgled unpleasantly while he stood there forcing himself to watch the creatures, to observe their inhuman and faltering movement, unseeing white eyes unblinking and mouths opened in morbid silent screams.

“I do not,” Hannibal agreed. “But I have my own ideas.”

“Maybe you can share them later, because I have none,” Will grunted and began walking across the parking lot towards the trashed entrance of the Home Depot.

Inside the aisles were in disarray, and the tiled floors were stained crimson from various bodies in states of death, dying, or early decay. The place was quiet so far, and their shoes squeaked and echoed as they made their way into the store. Forty minutes later had Will lugging large boards of wood out and into the bed of the truck, and each trip to the vehicle he cast a glance at the pat of zombies, noting that they now faced the store and had struggled a few feet closer. He wondered if they could hear or smell, if they could see despite the whites cataracts on their eyes. Just as Hannibal knew nothing concrete about them, neither did Will.

The only thing Will knew with certainty was that looking at them made his heart skip a beat and his skin crawl uncomfortably.

****

“ _Will_ ,” Hannibal’s voice was strained with emotion Will couldn’t decipher.

He came to stop in the store in a barren aisle and found the older man kneeling at the end with his hands behind his head and his eyes staring at him with dilated pupils. Sweat was beading Hannibal’s brow along his hairline.

“Hello again,” a voice said.

The man from the other day walked into view, shotgun focused on Hannibal unshakingly. His green eyes were sharp and narrowed as they flitted between the two of them. Will knelt and set his own gun on the ground in front of him, and then stood with his hands raised in supplication, mind racing as he tried to figure out what had occurred in the short amount of time it had taken to bring the wood out into the parking lot.

“What’s going on?” Will asked quietly, attempting to carry himself as unthreatening as possible, hands up with palms out, head lowered and eyes blinking slowly and uncertainly at the man.

“I came upon him suddenly,” Hannibal answered from where he knelt. “We almost collided upon my exploration of this aisle. He was coming around the corner.”

“He tried to shank me,” the man countered.

“Could this be a misunderstanding?” Will cast his gaze from one to the other, brow furrowed -why would Hannibal try to ‘shank’ this man, unless it had been in reflex?

“No,” the man said, and he looked Will up and down with consideration. “How do you know this guy?”

“He’s my friend,” Will said truthfully. “From ‘before’.”

Before the infection wiped out half the city and turned the rest into monstrous husks of their previous lifeforms. Before Baltimore became a war zone. Before, before, before. Will stared into the stranger’s green eyes and felt his nostrils flare. An inkling of apprehension began to develop in Will’s chest, and he tried to slow his racing heart as they stood in the aisle of Home Depot. He thought about his dogs, about Winston tilting his head in curiosity, ears perked cutely, about Buster snuffling into his hair yesterday in an attempt to comfort him. 

“You keep friendships with interesting people,” the man muttered. “I went into that house after you two left.”

“Will,” Hannibal repeated Will’s name in the same tone of voice as earlier, and Will finally looked into his brown eyes for more than a fleeting second.

They were clear and widened not in fright, but with clarity. _Understanding_. Something wasn’t right here. Will inhaled slowly and took a single step forward, and that was all that it took. Something struck him at the back of his head hard, and the force caused him to fall to his knees in a shout of pain. Before he blacked out he saw Hannibal looking in his direction with barely concealed rage.

The last thing he heard was a horrendous snarl that echoed in the store.

****

When Will woke he lay where he’d fallen. The back of his head felt tender and his brain throbbed, and he blinked groggily as he struggled to his hands and knees. Around him the place was silent, and his gun was gone. He staggered to his feet and steadied himself against the metal shelf, but seconds later he collapsed after slipping in a puddle of blood. Breath gusted out of him harshly as he landed on his back. The only light came from the busted windows at the front of the store, and it reached here only weakly now.

“Will?” Hannibal’s voice proceeded his presence before his strained face came into Will’s line of sight. 

“You’re okay,” Will looked up at him and tried to make sense of anything other than the brown eyes looking down at him.

Hannibal’s face was bloodied and bruises were already blooming, and his bottom lip was split uglily, blood oozing down his chin in a smeared line. His hair was mussed and matted with more crimson, and his chest was heaving harshly as he stood over Will, bent slightly at the back with his hands planted on his thighs. _He’s injured pretty bad_ , Will thought distantly. His heart was still in his throat and it pounded in his ears, and the pain blossoming along the back of his head and down his neck had the younger man squinting, vision blurred enough to obscure the edges.

“I’m fine,” Hannibal said the words as if they personally offended him. “Can you tell me who you are?”

“I’m Will Graham,” Will frowned. “I haven’t forgotten anything. My head just hurts. A lot.”

“Your eyes are glossy. I was concerned that the force behind the hit-,” the older man trailed off. “It’s no matter. I’m relieved that you are okay.”

“What happened?” Will struggled into a sitting position with a groan, hand coming to rest in streak of blood -the mess that he’d slipped on. 

Hannibal wrapped a strong arm around Will and assisted him in standing, other hand holding the younger man's rifle. Staggering into the other man’s chest, into the steady, powerful wall of muscle there, soothed a part of Will’s hammering brain without his conscious knowledge. He breathed easier and finally managed to get his bearings about him. The man from before was dead, splayed where Hannibal had been kneeling, throat torn open and glistening wetly. Unseeing green eyes bulged in disbelief, and his mouth was a red line of broken teeth and bleeding gums. Behind them another man shook in the last throes of death, breath stuttering out in a long gurgle. In his mind, Will imagined this new person sneaking up behind him clutching the metal bat he noticed nearby, held aloft with ill intentions and ready to bring it down at a moment’s notice. 

Will closed his eyes and exhaled loudly before he stepped away from Hannibal’s side and retrieved the weapon that had knocked him out. He held it by the end and leaned it against his shoulder, feeling the loss of Hannibal’s nearness as if it were a physical thing. He realized absently that he would have been perfectly content to remain leaning into his friend’s warm strength. 

“I killed them,” Hannibal said simply.

“No shit,” Will’s sarcastic voice caused a pale eyebrow to raise disapprovingly. “Don’t look at me like that. Fuck. Let’s just go home.”

“We need more supplies yet,” the older man argued.

“Tomorrow. Fuck all of this.”

They left the store in silence and climbed into their respective vehicles. When they returned home, Will’s heart skipped a beat and his face lit up like it hadn’t since the disaster had started. Sprawling on the steps, both of his missing dogs perked up, tails wagging and fur muddied. Will was out of the truck before it rolled to a complete stop, closing the door behind him absently as he met the animals halfway with scritches and long strokes of their dirty fur, listening to their happy whines with a feeling of relief. 

It was short lived. 

He heard a grunt of pain and then a thump, and he looked over his shoulder in confusion in time to witness Hannibal falling to his knees and then his side, head banging limply onto the rocks of Will’s driveway.


	7. Fruitless Endeavor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The doctor moved away and made for the truck, and then paused as he noticed Will heading back towards the house. When it became obvious why, Hannibal frowned. 
> 
> “We can’t bring the dogs, Will,” he said firmly. 
> 
> “Excuse me?” the younger man bristled immediately. “I’m _not_ leaving them, Hannibal. I am _NOT_ abandoning my dogs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HNNNNNNGH. I really fucking love this story so far. I want to write and write and not stop but I'm pacing myself so I don't burn out LOL!

Day 7

They didn’t go back out into the city the next day. Hannibal lay in Will’s bed unmoving for the remainder of the previous day and night, and only this morning opened his eyes. Will sat up straighter from where he’d been dozing in the chair pushed to the bed’s side, blinking sleep from his eyes and squeezing the hand he was holding gently. Brown eyes glazed with pain met his, before the doctor blinked the vulnerability away and looked elsewhere. His fingers twitched in Will’s grasp but otherwise didn’t move.

“This is inconvenient,” Hannibal said finally, voice hoarse.

“What?” Will frowned and blinked again, finally grumbling and rubbing his free hand across his face.

“I had hoped to avoid being bedridden. We have much to do,” the doctor answered and then trailed off, eyes narrowing at Will. “Have you slept at all?”

“A bit,” Will begrudged with a one-shouldered shrug. “I’m fine.”

“Will,” the older man sighed but said nothing else for a few minutes.

It was then that Hannibal noticed that the living room felt different, and he cast his gaze around curiously. Will shrugged again, tightening his fingers around Hannibal’s hand as his friend took in the windows sealed tight with sheets of wood.

“We do need more,” Will commented. “I measured the windows and did the work in the shed. I’d like a few more layers over it all, though.”

“Indeed,” Hannibal sighed again. “You were out there alone?”

“Not really, I had Winston with me,” the younger man said and he tried to smile, but Hannibal merely frowned.

Silence fell over them once more. Will finally extricated his hand from his friend and stood up, taking a second for his equilibrium to fall into place. He was incredibly tired, and despite knowing logically it wasn’t a great idea for them both to be out of sorts, he’d known that he couldn’t have just let Hannibal’s injury go to waste. And so he’d taken care of what he could with the supplies from the truck, chest tight when Hannibal didn’t stir even to the sound of hammering and his grunts of exertion -and his coming and going to lug all of the wood inside, dogs jumping and flitting around excitedly.

“None of it feels real,” Will whispered. “Isolated out here. I didn’t even feel frightened out there alone in the shed.”

“The illusion of perceived safety,” the doctor said. “Or simply put, out of sight, out of mind.”

“I’m not a child,” the FBI profiler grumbled but there wasn’t much bite to his words. “Move over.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I want to lay down, move over.”

Hannibal made a noise of understanding and shifted with a twitch of discomfort. Will climbed into bed and flopped on his side facing the other man, eyeing him concernedly. He sought to hold onto Hannibal’s hand once more, and the movement was almost natural now, as the older man met him halfway and opened his fingers to accept the request. A connection, something old in a new world. Neither of them thought about the intimacy of the action longer than to realize they both required some amount of comfort, perhaps Will more so.

“Sleep,” Hannibal murmured, and he’d barely finished speaking when Will closed his eyes and dropped into a dreamless sleep, laying atop the blankets and pillowing his face on his other hand.

Hannibal stared at his friend’s features, lax and unguarded. As he drifted off as well, he once again felt thankful that he had sought out Will Graham when everything turned to chaos and death. _I take care of my own_ , were Hannibal Lecter’s last waking thoughts.

They both slept well into the afternoon.

****

Frantic barking and growling roused both men, and Will rolled out of bed and nearly fell to his knees in his shock. Gaining his feet, he launched himself across the room and acquired his gun, running a hand through his hair tiredly as he toed into his boots and made to leave the house. Hannibal sat up and struggled to his feet as well, shirt opened and revealing the massive bruise blooming along most of his right side. It was purple and black and dispersed with yellow, and Will had been certain his ribs had been broken or cracked, one or two at least. The older man acted as if he felt nothing, buttoning up the long-sleeved shirt and following behind Will.

“Stay here,” Will hissed, and the vehemence in his words settled the canines more than it did the doctor, who paused and tilted his head.

“Nonsense,” Hannibal said it with teeth grit against the pain that standing caused -he shoved the sensation away and squared his shoulders, having gone through much worse.

Will rolled his eyes and eased the front door open, Buster and one of the other smaller dogs clicking around on the floor and trying to hop up to see out the window despite it being boarded. Winston lay in his bed panting and gazing between his brothers and his master, tail swishing expectantly. Both men squeezed out onto the front porch, struggling to keep the more excited animals from following and cavorting off.

“There’s nothing out here,” Will said uncertainly, gun leveled before him as he walked out into the front yard.

Hannibal glanced from one end of the porch to the other, peered into the bushes bracketing the front of the house, but there was no sight to be seen or sound to be heard. A cursory sniff of the air brought Will’s tired sweat and his own scent of pain and mild frustration. Will circled the house and studied as much of his property as he could, and when he came back to the front of the house, he shrugged at Hannibal. For a moment he didn’t understand what was going on, why the older man stood still with his eyes wide and his mouth slackened. Will opened his mouth to question the look of terrified shock on the doctor’s face, confused by the emotion crossing his elegant features so clearly.

“We have to leave,” Hannibal said, not blinking and not looking away from where his brown eyes were focused.

“What? We can’t jus-” Will cut himself off and turned around, squinting in the direction his friend was looking.

Something moved on the horizon. It looked like a giant, wriggling caterpillar at first glance. Will ran into the house and struggled through the clutter for his binoculars, and he came to a stop next to Hannibal and brought them up to his face. His heart dropped into his stomach.

“Oh my god,” he said. “Oh my god, Hannibal. Fuck.”

“Yes,” Hannibal nodded his head and let a shudder pass through his body.

The next hour was spent in panicked motion. Will ran in and out of his house and lugged supplies to the back of the truck - clothes, dog food, blankets. He had no thoughts to spare for anything but fright and clammy sweat, and he retrieved his service pistol, bypassing the holster and just tucking the weapon into his pants. Meanwhile, Hannibal gathered canned goods and what remained of their perishable foods, shoving everything into the duffel bag. He grasped a large knife and secured it on his person, and then he retrieved his satchel of medical supplies. When he made it back outside to drop off his own load, both in the front compartment of the truck, he found Will staring through the binoculars again, shaking.

“I thought we could stay here,” the younger man said brokenly. “I _knew_ we couldn’t, but I just- I thought, Hannibal, what do we do?”

“Did you gather everything you needed?” Hannibal asked the question and barely heard the answer, his own eyes returning to the distance and lighting over the surging mass of deadthings hobbling in their direction.

There were hundreds of them, moving as one, their unnatural gait becoming clearer the closer they approached. Hannibal estimated that they would overrun the house within the next hour or two, and despite that reassurance, he still felt his body tensed with fright and the need to do something, _anything_ , now. He didn’t want to linger long enough to smell the stench he knew was following the hoard of death.

“We barely have anything,” Will protested. “This isn’t fair.”

Hannibal stepped closer to the younger man. Will’s breathing came fast and his body quivered. He could smell the panic building, and he wrapped one arm firmly around the other’s shoulder to pull him close. Will didn’t fight the action, and he settled against his friend slightly, grateful for the support. The two of them stood there in trepidation and resignation.

They had to leave -now.

“Come on,” Hannibal pressed his fingers into Will’s arm softly and urged him to move. “We have to go.”

“Yeah,” Will agreed shakingly.

The doctor moved away and made for the truck, and then paused as he noticed Will heading back towards the house. When it became obvious why, Hannibal frowned. 

“We can’t bring the dogs, Will,” he said firmly. 

“Excuse me?” the younger man bristled immediately. “I’m _not_ leaving them, Hannibal. I am _NOT_ abandoning my dogs.”

“Our survival depends on-”

“No, Hannibal,” Will interrupted the other’s words and stomped one foot down deliberately, uncaring that he was acting childishly. 

“Will. We cannot afford to dally right now,” Hannibal’s voice lowered as he squared his shoulders once more.

He should have figured that Will would insist on this. Between the pain of his injury and the shock of having to pick up and leave, however, the older man found himself unprepared to deal with his stubborn friend. He debated overpowering him and knocking him unconscious, but the consideration had a short life when he realized that Will could likely put up more of a fight than him at the present time. Hannibal looked over his shoulder towards certain doom, and then relented. He moved forward, and together they ushered the dogs into the back of the truck, arranging them as comfortably as possible. 

“Thank you,” Will said as he helped Hannibal into the passenger seat.

“Don’t thank me,” the older man pursed his lips and refused to look into beseeching blue eyes, chest tight and limbs stiff with anticipation.

****

They drove into Baltimore once more, Will at the wheel. The window was opened at the back of the truck so that he could call soothing words out to his pack of dogs, who moved restlessly and whose confusion could be heard in small yips and drawn out whines. Hannibal’s lip curled into a silent snarl more than once, thoughts turned inwards at their chance of survival, which diminished the longer the younger man insisted on caring for the animals. He wanted so badly to point out that the dogs weren’t helpless, that they would most likely have a better chance at surviving on their own despite their domesticity (as animals, they would adapt much faster than humans, and it wouldn't take long for them to fall into the grasp of feral instinct). He remained silent as the truck rolled through the city slowly.

Here and there sightless eyes and gaping blood-stained mouths perked up towards them, but for the most part the city appeared empty. Businesses were boarded up uselessly, and several buildings smoked or blazed brightly. Will maneuvered the vehicle around the detritus of another car wreck before the truck rolled to a stop.

“Will?” Hannibal finally looked over at his friend, the younger man leaning forwards with his knuckles white where his hands were clenched on the steering wheel.

“I know I’m just endangering us both, but I couldn’t leave them, Hannibal,” the former FBI profiler said. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve no need to apologize, Will,” the doctor sighed and laid a hand briefly on Will’s arm. “I understand. They are your family.”

Blue eyes danced wetly as Will finally relinquished his hold on the steering wheel. He collapsed back onto the seat and let out a shaky breath. Hannibal let his hand fall away and returned to gazing out the window, just in time to witness a brief flashing of light that jolted across the truck. Will jumped slightly, having noticed it as well, and he scrabbled for the gun between them.

“Wait,” Hannibal held one hand in the air, other clutching at his side. 

Again the light flashed. After a few moments a door across the street opened, and both men blinked in disbelief. The large man that strode out onto the street was familiar, the set of his broad shoulders an instant comfort to Will and quite the opposite for Hannibal. A woman slipped out of the door, dark and curled hair pulled up in a high bun on her head and wrapped tightly with a fading bandanna, hand clutching a gleaming knife. In the back of the truck, Winston barked once in greeting, recognizing the scent of the man.

Jack and Bella Crawford came to a stop a foot away from the truck, both of their faces grim and dirtied, blood staining their clothes thickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a (sad) note, Bella still has cancer. But I fucking love her so much, so she will live for a while yet. Next chapter = more familiar faces!


	8. Precarious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah, you’re right,” Jack shrugged his broad shoulders and turned away from them both, giving Hannibal his back in defiance. “Come with us, if you want.”
> 
> Hannibal remained standing, nose high and eyes narrowed at Jack’s retreating figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♥ All mistakes are mine~

Day 7

Will jumped out of the truck within seconds, slamming the door shut behind him and circling around the vehicle towards his former boss at the BAU in Quantico. Jack’s severe expression warmed slightly at the site of the younger man, but his lips remained in a steadfast frown. 

“Jack!” Will came to a stop in front of him, blue eyes wide, unsure whether to shake the big man’s hand or pull him into an embrace.

“Will,” Jack nodded and clapped a large hand on his former trainee’s shoulder, his smaller body nearly jolting at the action. “You look good. Better than most of us.”

Will looked down at himself and then studied Jack and the woman next to him. Even before she was introduced as his wife, the FBI profiler could tell that the two of them were close, and then it just took glancing between matching bands of silver on their fingers to make the connection. True to Jack’s words, he definitely looked like he’d seen less trouble than the two weary individuals in front of him. 

Their clothes were torn and ragged, the man’s suit jacket barely holding on to his frame, blood staining the garments heavily, and the woman’s dress ripped clear down the center; she’d pulled her arms out of the sleeves and cinched the scraps around her waist, wearing a stained tank top that was too large for her around the arms. She wore boots that looked to belong to Jack, and the skirt end of her dress had been slit along the sides to allow better movement. Both of them had accompanying blemishes on their face and bared skin, one in the form of a partial bloodied handprint on Jack’s cheek, and dirt smudged into near every contour of the woman’s face.

Will let out a shuddering sigh and compared them to himself, his clean flannel long-sleeved shirt and old threadbare and baggy jeans. His hair was in disarray with sweat and from constant nervous tics resulting in twitching filthy fingers through curls. Truthfully he did look like shit, though in comparison, the two people standing before him appeared as if they’d fought a war. Which, the younger man supposed, wasn’t quite so far from the truth. A moment of silence fell heavy over them, and Will noticed for the first time that Hannibal remained in the truck.

Jack’s hard features grew harsher when his dark eyes lit upon the figure in the passenger’s seat.

“Doctor Lecter,” he called suddenly, and Will jumped. “Why don’t you join us?”

It became obvious very quickly that there was tension in the air now. In his excitement to see another familiar face, Will had neglected to notice its existence, and now that he had, he grew still. He thought back to the day before, to the man with the green eyes. _I went into that house after you two left_. Swallowing around a lump in his throat, the younger man took an uncertain step back and looked over at the truck. Hannibal’s head had tilted towards them but he hadn’t turned to face them. His lips were thinned and his brow furrowed as he stared unblinking ahead of him. When Jack spoke, he inclined his head in acknowledgement and eased the passenger door open, his movements deliberately slow.

“Jack,” Hannibal greeted. “And Bella. I am glad to see you both well.”

“I bet you are,” Jack’s frown had evolved into a grimace of sorts, hovering near a smile enough to bare his teeth and the gap in the front.

Will looked between them, heart beginning to race. He could feel the tension between them as if it were a tangible thing that he could reach out and slice through, like a warmed knife through butter. He observed Hannibal coming to a standstill behind him, shoulders tense and head held high in an approximation of Jack’s own position, one hand clutching Will’s rifle deceptively loosely. One could argue that like Bella, he armed himself in correlation to their atmosphere, where not too far away a deadthing had seemingly picked up their scent or heard them, broken legs creaking awkwardly as it half-dragged itself in their direction slowly. Will had an idea that that observation was only partially correct. He looked back at Jack, who remained fixated on Hannibal’s face, and then briefly met Bella’s dark eyes questioningly. She offered a subtle one-shouldered shrug.

“Jack,” Will started, and the man in question jerked his hand up in a stopping motion.

Will shut his mouth with a click and took another step back, his arm pressing gently into Hannibal’s side. The man had taken a step forward at Will’s own movement, he realized. They both stood together facing the only two people they’d seen since the incident at Home Depot. A wind picked up at that moment and stirred the air around them, teasing through hair and loose clothes, and Will looked up at the sky briefly to see smoke trailing in a path across the greyness already there from the various fires that raged in the distance. He thought about the night back in Wolf Trap when explosions had lit the horizon like a garbled version of the sun.

“We looked for you,” Jack said, voice rough. “And do you know what we found?”

The man sounded defeated, enraged, and resigned all at once. Despite that fact, or perhaps because of it, he hadn’t raised a fist in any indication of violence. His body remained squared tightly, hands clenching and unclenching with his emotion, but the handgun nestled in the waistband of his pants stayed there. Bella took a quiet step forward and wrapped one arm around Jack’s bicep, fingernails cracked with chipped polish remaining behind, red and bright as blood.

“I imagine you found my home,” Hannibal said matter-of-factly.

“Indeed we did,” the big man exhaled heavily through his nose as a moment of anger took over his features. “One of my men was keeping an eye on it, in case you returned. And you did; you both did.”

Will’s nostrils flared. He looked over his shoulder at Hannibal, the man’s elegant face arranged into a carefully blank expression, brown eyes unwavering as he met Jack’s black ones. Suddenly it wasn’t hard to believe that the two men would draw their guns at any second and fire away.

“Jack-,” Will tried again -Jack’s glaring eyes merely looked at him for a heartbeat before lighting back on the predator that he correctly perceived Hannibal to be.

“Will, did you see the basement?” he asked curtly.

“I did,” Will answered truthfully. “We-”

“I saw it too. Me and a few others investigated after Mike was in there,” Jack finally moved, turning in Bella’s direction very slightly. “Bella found Mike’s body at Home Depot not too long ago. Him and one of our other guys were killed.”

“They attacked us,” Will growled, pissed off at having been interrupted so many times, voice raised vehemently. “We were getting some supplies to bring back to my home. One of them hit me over the head with a _metal_ bat.”

“When Mike told me Hannibal wasn’t alone, I didn’t imagine for a second that you would be with him, Will,” the big man sighed and spoke as if Will hadn’t, head shaking. “You saw his basement and still brought him back to your house?”

Before Will could open his mouth again, Hannibal moved in front of him smoothly, rifle still held loosely at his side, but making it very obvious that he was situating himself between Jack and the former FBI profiler. The air grew taut with anticipation, Bella’s hand gripping the handle of her knife tighter, feet spreading as she adopted her own stance of readiness. Annoyed, Will looked around Hannibal’s side and glared at Jack.

“You’re doing this now?” he hissed. “Seriously, Jack. Look around us; it’s not like any of that matters anymore.”

“Bullshit, Will,” Jack roared and his fingers twitched toward his gun.

Will growled and tore the rifle away from Hannibal, who made no move to stop him or aid him. He remained still as a statue as Will put himself back between the two angry men, finger solidly hovering over the trigger, muzzle of the gun leveled at the ground for now. Jack appeared to be stricken for a moment, hand falling back to his side away from his own weapon, and he seemed to come to some sort of realization at that moment -one that didn’t please him and yet drew out the previous resignation within him until his muscular body eased back into a normal stance, not quite relaxing nor challenging.

“You’re right,” Jack said, and Will wasn’t certain who was more shocked at the admittance.

Hannibal didn’t show it, of course, but he was quite surprised. Pleasantly so, he amended inwardly. He’d been certain Jack would have blasted his head off his shoulders the second he stepped out of the truck earlier. Unbeknownst to Will, that day they met the green-eyed man, now known as Mike, Hannibal had picked up a very familiar scent, the remnants of Bella’s very particular perfume. Faint, so very faint, and still Hannibal had smelled it, intertwined with another scent, one of desperation and anger; Jack’s own brutish smell, as singularly intent as his brain and his person. Hannibal frowned now, affecting an appropriately repentant expression.

“I’m right,” Will said, not a question and not a fact, either, hovering between uncertainty and wondering if there was a catch.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jack shrugged his broad shoulders and turned away from them both, giving Hannibal his back in defiance. “Come with us, if you want.”

Hannibal remained standing, nose high and eyes narrowed at Jack’s retreating figure. Will gusted out a breath and strode over to the truck to seek the comfort of his dogs, trailing shaking fingers through soft fur, his newly returned dogs still smelling faintly of soap after a cursory scrubbing while Hannibal had rested back in Virginia. He wanted to crawl into the back of the truck and lay with his animals, look up at a preferably blue and cloudless sky, and forget that all of this was happening. He wanted to go fishing, to bring home a few gleaming silver-scaled ones to gut and cook and relax out on the porch as he ate. He wanted-

“You can bring the dogs,” Jack’s voice called.

****

Hannibal parked the truck in an alleyway down the street, and then they followed Jack and Bella. The building they walked into had once been a shop of some kind. It was gutted and boarded up, shelves pushed up against walls and one of two doors in the entrance. Will and Hannibal gathered their supplies, the former shouldering a few blankets and lugging the duffelbag of food, the latter clasping his leather satchel in long fingers and taking up the rifle once more. The dogs click-clacked along in their wake snuffling around eagerly, the mass of fur and wet noses and perked ears a controlled amount of chaos. It was tantamount to Will’s own precise control over his pack that none of them bounded off this time, perhaps relaxed by the familiar reappearance of Jack. They filed into the doorway after the humans, paying no mind to the rotting creature dragging itself closer to where they had all been standing moments ago, tails high and wagging.

Through the dimly lit store they walked, circling the counter where the cash registers used to be and moving towards another doorway. A long hallway opened up, emergency lights steadily blinking orange, and Will looked around himself anxiously, wondering where they were heading and wishing they hadn’t left his home in the first place. He brought up the rear, clicking his tongue at any canine that showed any sign of wanting to wander off -it was easier now that they weren’t panicked and hyped up with energy. Hannibal walked ahead of him stiffly, fingers tight around the gun, and ahead of him Jack strode purposefully, not looking back as Bella lead the way. Eventually they made it to a moderately-sized room, no lights here other than the flashing orange ones from the hallway. Bella clicked on a flashlight drawn out of a belt hidden by the scraps of her clothes, knife taking its place now that there was no danger to warrant its gleaming presence. Will came to a stop next to the doctor, looking up at him and trying to catch his eye, and that was when it happened. 

Hannibal dropped the gun and the satchel, nose exploding in a mess of red, head jolting back at the force of Jack’s sudden hit. He fell to his knees, still weak from his previous injuries, as the big man stepped forward and trapped the gun under his foot, holding one hand out to keep Will away. His fingers spanned across the other’s chest as if he were a child and shoved with enough force to have the younger man stumbling under his load of supplies.

“You,” Jack seethed, pointing at Hannibal, who struggled to look upwards, one hand clutching at his likely broken nose. “You get to live, but if you touch _anyone_ here, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

Will held his breath as he watched the two men face off again, his heart racing with his own anger. He understood Jack’s rage clearly, and despite his own from barely a few days ago at finding out who the doctor truly was, he couldn’t peacefully condone Hannibal’s death, if it came to that. He would protect his friend if he had to. _He came for me_ , Will thought desperately, wishing Jack could read his mind and _see_. There was no part of him that accepted Hannibal’s actions from ‘before’, of course -he still felt ill any time he thought about how thoroughly the man had fooled them all-, but in this new world, their survival depended on a whole new slew of rules and necessities. Will had no doubt that the only reason Jack accepted this, albeit grudgingly, was because they would need a doctor in the future.

“I understand, Jack,” Hannibal’s voice was wet with the blood oozing passed his lips.

He got to his feet slowly, clutching up his fallen belongings, and faced Jack once more. A moment of silence blanketed them before the big man nodded once and continued on. Winston sniffed at Hannibal’s pant leg and wagged his tail excitedly, ears twitching at the scent of blood in the air. The rest of the pack shuffled around the dark room, closing in around Will at his beseeching noise, and then they were moving again. Another door came into view in the darkness, one that was knocked on once before it was opened from within.

Inside, Beverly Katz and Jimmy Price looked up from the table they sat around. Brian Zeller stood on the other side of the door, peeking around it with a grim expression on his face. Familiar faces, all of them, from a previous lifetime that Will could barely remember the details of as he walked into the new room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all ♥


	9. Unhappy News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We were at Quantico when it all went down,” Jimmy informed Will and Hannibal. “Shit hit the fan pretty quick.”
> 
> “I got Bella and then we left Virginia,” Jack continued the story tiredly. “We got held up on the highway. Car accidents, things like that. Eventually we grabbed a van and packed into it. Safer than multiple vehicles.”
> 
> “Jesus,” Will mumbled, unsure what else he could say in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY! Finally got this rewritten and am MUCH happier with the result! Extreme apologies for any confusion. LOVE YOU ALL ♥♥

Day 7

Hannibal longed to wash his face and see to his new injury. The rage that had welled within him when Jack landed his hit was safely tampered down, although it remained just beneath the surface, unforgiving and unforgetting. 

When they entered the small, dimly lit room, preceded by the wave of lolling tongues and wagging tails of Will’s pack and the man himself, he spotted the forensics team from the BAU, Jimmy and Beverly dirtied and miserable and hunched over the table, and Brian taking a few steps back to let everyone in before closing and securing the door behind them. The sight of the canines seemed to lift some weight off of everyone’s shoulders briefly, and the beasts were treated to long pets and scratches behind ears, their happy panting breaths stirring Beverly’s hair from her face where some of it had fallen from her untidy ponytail.

Will seemed rooted in place for a few moments, regarding everyone blearily, before he took long strides over to the table to greet Jimmy with a tight hug. Hannibal stood removed, observing Will’s shaking body, something very deep inside of him grumbling at how familiar the man acted with them, how easy he smiled and enfolded Beverly close against his chest, one hand tangling accidentally in her long hair. He felt Jack glance at him from his periphery, before the man strode over to a counter hugging the far corner to run his knuckles under water at the sink there. Lit by shimmering candles along said counter and the table the others sat at, Hannibal’s vision already splendid, he determined quickly that the place they were housed in was a staff room of sorts, small by all definitions, especially for seven people and the same number of canines.

But it was locked and deep inside of the building, as safe as any place probably could be now. The continued survival of them all likely attributed to watchful eyes and periodic patrols. And, Hannibal recalled, the other half of the group on the opposite side of the street. He doubted Will had noticed, dismissing the flashes of light snaring across their vision back in the truck the second Jack came into view. Hannibal had managed to pinpoint the direction from whence it came almost immediately.

“It’s so good to see you, Will,” Beverly said, and though her countenance appeared exhausted, she truly seemed happy to see Will alive and well, pulling back out of the embrace to look up at him with a crooked smile.

“You too,” Will let his hands fall back to his sides as she stepped away, and then he turned to greet Brian with a stiff embrace.

When they pulled away, Hannibal became aware of their eyes flitting in his direction, and the lack of anger and fright made it obvious that Jack had not told them about his findings. No, instead of disgust or rage, the three of them merely kept their distance because neither of them had ever been close in the past. Instead they were acquaintances via the cases he occasionally consulted on with Will and nothing else. 

One glance at Jack and Hannibal realized why they didn’t know, read the truth in his grudging acceptance: Hannibal was rather certain the man would gladly see him tied up if not dead, his skills as a doctor utilized when needed. Instead Jack had decided to keep it all under wraps for their continued peace of mind, which meant that barring the big man himself, Will, and Bella, no one in this room knew his secret. And the broken nose could be explained away as something entirely unrelated to Jack Crawford punching him in the face.

Hannibal finally moved, heading over to the sink and giving Jack a wide berth. Truthfully it thrilled Hannibal to know the man wanted to kill him, and he could smell the hardly restrained urge beneath the man’s falsely calm facade. He didn’t look away from Jack as he leaned the gun against the counter and set his satchel by the sink. The unspoken challenge between them, two alpha males catching and maintaining eye contact stubbornly, went on uninterrupted until Will strode over with a soft sound of distress.

“Here, let me,” he moved into Hannibal’s space and unclasped the satchel to sift around inside, pulling out a box of gauze pads and reaching for the sink to twist the tap.

And still Hannibal didn’t look away from Jack, triumphant when Will wet the gauze and dabbed it around his nose, wincing at the extent of the injury. This close, Hannibal could breath in the younger man’s scent, sweat and beneath it the bitter notes of anger and, buried under the other emotions and no less strong, relief. Hannibal knew it was for him, that the concern in Will’s focused eyes wasn’t a facade like Jack’s accepting calm. He almost smiled at the man over Will’s shoulder, but Jack finally ended their little game and looked away with a moue of disgust.

Victorious, Hannibal stepped closer to Will in the guise of leaning on the counter.

“We’re staying here for another night,” Jack announced in a loud voice. “We have enough food to last us if we ration smartly, and the water is still running -for now. Fill as many bottles or containers as you can before we leave tomorrow.”

“Where are we going?” Will asked uncertainly, wondering if they would be included, stuttering over the word ‘we’ very slightly.

Hannibal leaned over the sink to rinse the blood from his face, pleased at Will’s continued proximity. Distantly he wondered just why it mattered to him quite so much, however it was a short-lived consideration. As much as he would enjoy picking apart that thought, he had to stay on guard while he remained here, enclosed in a tiny room with people he didn’t know or trust.

“We’re not certain yet,” Jack confessed. “Anywhere but here is our tentative destination.”

****

Will settled his pack in one corner of the room, kneeling with them for a time to pet them and stroke along their heads, scratching behind perked ears. The smaller dogs whined, the new place overwhelming them, and one of the bigger dogs, with his short brown fur and a white undercoat, grumbled in complaint when Will stood.

“Hush, Chester,” Will spoke firmly, and he walked back over to the table.

Hannibal sat in one of the steel fold-out chairs, with Beverly and Jimmy near him, the former leaning heavily on the table, the latter slouched and running a hand tiredly over his face. Brian had eased out of the room a moment ago, accepting the transceiver device from Jack and talking into it quietly as the door closed behind him. 

“This is wild,” Will commented, mainly because the tiny room made him nervous and the silence even more so. “I still expect to wake up and find this is all a dream.”

“I feel you,” Beverly lay her head in the palm of one hand and peered up at him hovering on the opposite side of the rectangle table, which had been pushed into the center of the room with eight chairs haphazardly situated around it.

Will took the chair closest to Hannibal, who sat at one end. With a sigh he relaxed his body, the steel the farthest thing from comfortable but better than being on his feet. Suddenly it was like the last week had decided to converge on him at once, everything that had happened a blur, and Will imagined the proverbial weight on his shoulders as an anvil weighing a million tons. He slumped and rested his hands on the cool surface of the table, exhaling out a loud, long breath.

“No offence, but if this is a dream, I’m not sure why I’m here with you guys,” Jimmy started with a falsified air of humor. “I much prefer my dreams of delicious cake and beautiful non-zombie island resorts, occasionally interrupted by Zeller’s inane comments. I can’t escape him even in my brain, you know.”

“Like you’d even want to,” Beverly tittered slightly and knocked her shoulder into the man’s, who raised a brow judgingly but didn’t comment further. “I usually dream about cases so this really isn’t much of a difference, to be honest.”

“Yeah,” Will said with a snort. “Zombies are totally normal in comparison.”

Will winced when the woman kicked him under the table, meeting her half-hearted smile regardless when she glanced at him. _It’s got to be a dream_ , Will decided. This room felt too unreal, everything did. Maybe he was back in his bed with Hannibal, asleep in the relative safety of his home -if the end of the world wasn’t a nightmare, he’d at least want to be back there. He wondered what had become of his home amidst the hoard of monsters, hoped that the lack of life within the building’s walls would mean they wouldn’t linger. 

_We could go back_ , he thought. _All of us._

He turned his gaze to Hannibal and found the man regarding him sharply, as if he had been for a while now. The man’s brown eyes were maroon in the flickering candlelight, and his expression bordered on his usual blank mask with an undercurrent of displeasure that Will could imagine meant a lot of things presently -his nose and cheekbones were swollen, lip scabbed from his prior injuries, and his hair hung lank and dirty into his face. Furthermore, despite his attempts to appear otherwise, Will could read his exhaustion in the line of his shoulders, held taut and twitching every once in awhile along with his long fingers that rested near Will’s own.

“How long have you guys been here?” Will asked.

“Baltimore? Two days,” Jack answered from one corner of the room, seated on the floor with Bella nestled against his side.

“We came here initially to find Hannibal,” Beverly answered with a quirk of one eyebrow. “We were going to come find you, too, Will.”

“We were at Quantico when it all went down,” Jimmy informed Will and Hannibal. “Shit hit the fan pretty quick.”

“I got Bella and then we left Virginia,” Jack continued the story tiredly. “We got held up on the highway. Car accidents, things like that. Eventually we grabbed a van and packed into it. Safer than multiple vehicles.”

“Jesus,” Will mumbled, unsure what else he could say in response.

“What about you guys?” Jimmy asked.

“Baltimore very quickly descended into chaos,” Hannibal spoke for the first time other than a few murmured greetings earlier, and the silence after he spoke was a heavy one. 

“He called me,” Will filled in. “I had no fucking clue what was going on. I encountered one of the -the zombies- in my yard. It tried to bite me but I got away, back into the house. Then Hannibal was there and I just-”

Will stopped talking abruptly. Thinking about it all made everything worse. The weight on his shoulders proliferated, and for a moment he couldn’t bear to even look up, let alone continue. In the end he merely shrugged his shoulders and avoided everyone’s eyes, traced invisible patterns on the table’s surface, and then braced himself.

“Alana is dead,” he announced.

His head filled with the echoing sounds Alana had made as she staggered closer, her beautiful face pale and her pretty clothes bloodied and ruined. He heard Hannibal explain the goings-on in a steady voice, but he couldn’t bear to see their reactions. Even so, he heard Beverly begin to sob softly, saw her quivering in the corner of one eye when Jimmy pulled her in with one arm around her shoulders. When he could finally brave it he inspected Jack’s face as the big man focused his vision on the ceiling, the hand fisted on his leg clenching hard and mirroring Will’s own white-knuckled grip as his grief reopened itself. 

“She was coming for me,” he said with a shudder. 

The large hand that covered his own just then belonged to Hannibal, and Will swallowed around the lump in his throat. He welcomed the warm weight and let out a shaky sigh.

“I would have protected her if I could,” Will continued - _I wish I could have. More than anything._ “I would have, I swear it.”

Beverly reached over and patted his forearm awkwardly once, before drawing away and wiping at the tears on her face quickly. She thanked Jimmy with a watery voice and then focused on calming down. Will marveled at the reality of their lives now, when grief had no place in the world, no time to exist longer than a few shed tears and another crack in one’s heart.

 _A dream_ , Will insisted, and he didn’t care if spoke the words aloud or if it remained a thought lodged at the forefront of his mind.

_It has to be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As previously stated, the dogs will never be harmed or killed, and neither will Hannibal and Will (well, killed anyway LOL). Everyone else, well...just don't get attached! I'll try not to kill everyone....-coughs-


	10. No Time Left for Pleasantries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal drew a knife hidden beneath his shirt and pointed the sharp end in the other’s direction.
> 
> “You will not touch Will,” Hannibal said loudly. “Or his dogs.”
> 
> Silence descended over the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO! Still got my groove, feeling much better now that winter is (attempting) to go away! 
> 
> All mistakes are mine~
> 
> NOTE: Went back and edited a bit to include the fact more clearly that Will does still have his service pistol/weapon/etc, that he used at the beginning of the story! Sometimes I forget obvious things like that xD WOOPS. I also went back and changed shotgun to hunting rifle/rifle, cuz I'm a huge derp<3 If you see any other glaring mistakes/issues with continuity, give me a shout! I'm up for constructive criticism at any point ♥

Day 7-8

According to Hannibal’s watch it was midnight when everyone began to settle, with the exception of Beverly, who had taken first watch, transceiver clipped to the waist of her pants as she quietly moved out of the room. Brian had been back for a few hours but hadn’t spoken other than to murmur with Jack very briefly. He had one glance spared for Jimmy before he flopped on the floor near the counter, wrapping himself up in his coat and closing his eyes.

Will studied Brian’s features as he lay there, stubble overgrown and working towards a beard, hair unruly and brow heavy with stress. He ran a hand across his own face and felt the prickly stubble gaining purchase over his jawline, lengthening with each day, and a glance at Hannibal showed the shadow of his facial hair filling in darkly along his cheeks and chin. It was almost amusing to consider Hannibal with a full beard and ragged hair, no time for precise styling and impeccable suits, or any of the other little things that made up his very particular appearance. If one corner of Will’s lips lifted at that image, it didn’t last long before thoughts of _why_ interrupted his short mental reprieve. 

Excess energy began to bleed out now that he could physically relax, and the pain kept at bay by adrenaline and survival flooded in and sapped him of any remaining strength. Will repressed a sigh and glanced over at his dogs, absently flexing one of his hands, the knuckles of which were still bandaged from his incident with the mirror. It was amazing how the events that had transpired made it possible to forget the various bruises and injuries he'd been dealt, and he mentally cataloged his hurts, poked at the goose egg of a bump at the back of his head that he only now realized had never stopped throbbing dully, and considered changing the bandages slung across his knuckles, haphazard from what felt like an eternity ago back in Virginia.

The canines were in various states of sleep or relaxation, with the exception of Buster, whose ears perked and twitched, eyes wide and darting after the shadows flickering on the walls. He was an anxious dog at the best of times, downright antsy at the worst, and Will resented having to upset his routine, drag him to new and not necessarily safe places. The longing pang for home resurfaced as he left the table and set up a blanket on the floor near the pack. Movement behind him heralded Hannibal’s arrival, the older man having followed his cue, and together they situated themselves in one of the corners of the room closest to the door.

“We could go back to Wolf Trap,” Will whispered, patting his side to beckon Buster over. “Clear it out and see if there are any remaining _things_.”

“It’s rather isolated,” Hannibal frowned as he tapped his fingers lightly along his swollen face, pressing in on the new bruises forming.

“That is a good thing, though. Isn’t it?” 

“Yes and no. With more people we will need more supplies, and it will become more obvious that we are there,” Hannibal’s whispers lulled Will into a sense of calm despite the topic, and he eased his eyes shut, Buster curled up close at his back, small body quivering still.

“We could make it work. More people to keep watch,” Will cut himself off to yawn before he sighed. “Never mind. It’s not realistic, is it?”

“Is anything realistic anymore? Even were it you and I, we would not have been able to remain there forever.”

“We talked about this. I know. I just-”

“It’s hard to leave home, even harder to accept that you will never be able to return there again,” and with those words Hannibal reached out in the darkness and smoothed one of his hands up and down Will’s arm, gripping his shoulder gently.

Before sleep dragged him under, Will reflected on Hannibal’s words, the other man’s voice softened but sounding heavy, weighed down with an emotion he couldn’t place. The soothing motion of the doctor’s hand on his arm followed him into his dreams, where he found himself wrapped up in an impossible abundance of warm silk, the sun beating down on him from a cloudless blue sky.

****

With no windows, it wasn’t possible to ascertain if it were morning yet, but Will at least felt rested, though the floor didn’t even begin to approach comfortable. At some point while they slept, Beverly had returned, so quietly not even the door’s squeaking hinges had woken him, and the room had grown dimmer, most of the candles guttered out. Will sat up and stretched, and Buster woke immediately.

“I’m sorry, Buster,” he whispered and stroked his hand between the small dog’s ears.

Winston’s head popped up from the pile of fur, fluffy tail already wagging in greeting, and the larger canine tapped over to begin snuffling at Will’s face and neck as the man laughed softly. Around them, the room at large came alive with sleepy mumblings and the shifting of blankets and clothes. Jack gained his feet with a low groan and a stiff stretch, and he helped his wife into standing, pulling her close for an embrace. Will looked away from the intimate scene and buried his nose in Winston’s warm neck.

Next to the younger man, Hannibal stirred before sitting up, hands coming up to ghost over his face. Will could see him from the corner of one eye, and his chest swelled with nervous energy -neither good nor bad, just a mass of jittery emotion that came alive with the man next to him, whom he faced fully at Hannibal’s barely decipherable sound. In the darkness it was difficult to determine his expression.

“Hi,” Will greeted the man.

“Will,” Hannibal’s voice came out hoarse and deep with sleep.

The doctor’s profile became highlighted suddenly with a light brighter than the combined lit candles stacked around the room -Will squinted towards the electric lantern that Jack switched on and set in the center of the table, one hand shielding his sensitive eyes after spending the last several hours in poor lighting. Both men got to their feet, and almost simultaneously the door opened, and not gently. 

A man stormed in with gun in hand, sans shirt other than the torn remnants of what looked like a garish Aloha garment, clad in a pair of blood-stained jeans and combat boots. He wasn’t any taller than Hannibal, although he was wide and packed with a lot of muscle. Next to him a woman that appeared to be in her early twenties thumbed the machete hanging off of her belt.

“Gordy,” Jack greeted stiffly.

Will glanced between both men, feeling the air crackling suddenly with testosterone. Gordy had a shaved head and a brown goatee, and the woman with him had blond hair in a mess falling over her shoulders. She caught Will’s eye briefly, and he noticed that half of her face was black and blue with bruises. She stuck her nose up in the air when she noticed Will’s gaze, and then Gordy turned towards them.

“More mouths to feed, Jack?” he said, glare settling over his unfriendly features. “Do you two do anything useful? If we’re going to survive we need people that aren’t just going to sit around and whine.”

Hannibal opened his mouth to respond, and Gordy froze, lip curling in a snarl. Will was confused for the second it took him to realize the man was looking at his pack of dogs. Suddenly the air felt frigid.

“Jesus Christ,” Gordy hissed. “Two people and a fucking pack of animals? We might as well travel with noisemakers and fucking trombones. Call all the fucking deaders to us, aye?”

“They won't be any louder than you,” Will said before he could catch himself, and he felt his guts tighten uncomfortably when Gordy cast a disbelieving eye on him.

The younger man's hand twitched at his side, longing to grasp at his gun, snug at his waistband once more after having spent the night under his makeshift pillow -close at hand in case the tiny room had been compromised.

“Funny guy, huh?” Gordy growled.

“ _Gordy_ ,” Jack repeated louder. “You handle yours and I’ll handle mine. That’s our deal.”

Gordy snorted out a laugh and faced Will, taking a single step forward. In a flash of movement Will was sure no one caught or expected, Hannibal stepped in front of Gordy and planted his hands on the buff man’s chest. He shoved out with his considerable strength, and the bald man went careening backwards, narrowly missing his female companion. Will blinked, and in the time it took for Gordy to gain his bearings, Hannibal drew a knife hidden beneath his shirt and pointed the sharp end in the other’s direction.

“You will not touch Will,” Hannibal said loudly. “Or his dogs.”

Silence descended over the room. Everyone stared wide-eyed at Hannibal, with the exception of Jimmy, who rolled his eyes and turned away to continue packing up his belongings. Gordy huffed out a breath, snarl turning into a smirk that bared his yellow teeth. He clapped a hand on his companion’s shoulder as he stood up straighter and puffed out his chest.

“Alright, buddy,” he said with amusement. “No need to point that at me. I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

Will narrowed his eyes in a convenient echo of Chester, the bigger dog’s tail raised high and mouth twitching in a developing growl at the tension between the humans. With one last snort, Gordy turned and stomped out of the room, not bothering to stop and wait for the blond-haired woman. Hannibal had lowered his hand and returned his blade to its home in the depth of his clothes, tucked in the waistband of his pants and covered by his shirt. He boldly met the woman’s gaze and tilted his chin upwards.

“He won’t forget that,” she said, and Will was surprised at how child-like her voice sounded.

“It would be best that he didn’t,” Hannibal remarked.

She turned her nose up in the air again before leaving the room, hair flopping between her shoulder blades. The disquiet that took over in the strangers’ wake had Will shifting in place and wringing his hands.

“That wasn’t a smart move,” Jack grumbled in Hannibal’s direction.

“You’re not the leader of this merry band, are you, Jack?” Hannibal tilted his head towards the big man and quirked one pale brow.

“If there were a leader, I would not be it,” the man nodded his head. 

“They look to him because of his perceived strength,” Hannibal walked over to the pile of blankets he and Will had spent the night on and began to fold them curtly. “How ever did you find yourself strapped with that, Jack?”

Jack uttered a single, unamused laugh. He turned away and didn’t bother answering the question, and along with Bella, they gathered their own makeshift bedding and rolled it up to shove into a hiking backpack. Within the next several minutes Beverly dumped a few granola bars near the lantern, nodding in Will and Hannibal’s direction as she peeled back the wrapper and unceremoniously shoved the bar into her mouth. Will approached and grabbed the nearest snack, tossed it to Hannibal, who caught it with one hand and frowned down at it. 

“Afraid there won’t be any fancy dinners for quite a while,” Will said in a half-hearted attempt at a jest.

“Indeed,” the doctor ate without any complaint.

Will spent more time feeding his dogs than he did himself, dumping kibble on the ground from the small bag he’d brought. He knew he’d have to pick up more, and soon, but for now he managed to make sure each canine had a few mouthfuls. Beverly wandered over with a plastic bowl filled to the brim with water, eyes tired and hair messy as it fell around her dirty face. She stood next to Will as they watched the dogs scrambling to drink, eventually deciding on retrieving another dish. The pack were well-behaved, at least to a reasonable extent in the present circumstances. Still, Will resented everything about the tiny room and the fact that he couldn’t feed his family, marveling at how Hannibal most likely felt similar in his inability to host a large dinner for the rugged band of people that once lived an actual life.

****

Jack motioned Hannibal and Will over, remaining behind and holding the lantern in his other hand. The others had filed out of the room without a backwards glance. Clicking his tongue, Will made certain his pack remained seated, no small feat with the excitement following the others’ exodus of the small, dark place they had spent the night in. Hannibal looked to be in high spirits despite his healing lip and bruised face, wincing here and there when walking jolted his sore ribs but otherwise functioning as if nothing untoward had happened or would. Even Jack’s grim expression seemed not to phase the good doctor.

“Mike was Gordy’s brother,” Jack said without preamble.

“Oh, isn’t that great,” Will couldn’t hold back the snorting laughter that bubbled out of his chest at the irony. 

“Yeah,” Jack frowned. “The woman, I don’t know her name -she was the other guy’s girlfriend. Or Mike’s. One or the other.”

“Even better,” Will turned away from his former boss and looked at his pack in an attempt to comfort himself.

“They don’t know who is responsible, they only know it wasn’t caused by any of the infected.”

“Beautiful,” Will remarked sarcastically. 

“Will,” Hannibal set a grounding hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “It will all be fine.”

“Sure it will be, Doctor Lecter. It’s not like any of us _threatened_ Gordy or anything,” Will shrugged away from his friend’s hand and faced them once more with a glare. “Jack, why are you even with a man like him? He’s full of shit, we can all see it.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Jack’s voice left no room for argument, and he gestured at the door. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Will sighed loudly and followed wordlessly when Hannibal made to follow Jack. He barely had any time to signal to his dogs to join them when he found his friend facing him again, the fading light from the lantern casting him in shadow.

“We’ll be fine, Will,” Hannibal stated. “I will not let any harm come to you.”

And then he turned and left the room, leaving Will to stare after him for a short amount of time. The intensity in Hannibal’s voice hadn’t been lost on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy is having none of this alpha male bullcrap, yo~ (neither is Will, apparently. But he's a sassmonster so...) LOL. God I take back what I said before - I don't think I'll be able to kill ANYONE. I'm growing attached to them all (well...people from Hannibal of course....maybe my original characters can handle that part LOL)
> 
> As always, thank you all for being amazing and reading and kudos'ing and commenting. I truly do enjoy sharing this story ♥


	11. Feral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack returned the transceiver to his belt and then glanced around them. “Hannibal? You want to have the pleasure of putting your knife to _good_ use?”
> 
> Hannibal’s shoulders straightened when Jack addressed him, taking in his words with a single nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are mine~ ♥

Day 8

Will motioned to his pack, and together they followed behind Hannibal’s retreating form. As much as Will felt angered by -well, _everything_ really, not just the developing situation with Gordy-, he had no desire to remain in the dark room. The red emergency lights blinked tirelessly, illuminating the floor ahead in stuttering flashes. He caught up with the others in the empty shop, where they lingered near the door readying themselves and drawing their weapons, Jack turning off the lantern and hitching it at his waist.

Hannibal grasped Will’s rifle around the middle in one hand and secured his armload of supplies, perhaps preparing for an event that required him to run. Will hoped fervently that when they made their way out onto the street they would find nothing out of place that hadn’t already been when they first entered the place yesterday -of course the second that thought flit through his mind, the transceiver device, now returned to Jack, came to life with a spurt of static.

“There’s about a dozen deaders,” Gordy’s distorted but unmistakeable voice announced through the static. “They’re passing by but we might be here all fucking morning if we wait.”

“We take them out, then,” Jack answered curtly.

“Damn straight,” the man’s voice faded for a second, before returning with a beep. “By my visual there’s four of them a few feet away from your exit. Newly dead, it looks like. They’ll be tougher, but you’ll want to avoid gunfire so you don’t draw them all to you.”

“Got it,” Jack returned the transceiver to his belt and then glanced around them. “Hannibal? You want to have the pleasure of putting your knife to _good_ use?”

Hannibal’s shoulders straightened when Jack addressed him, taking in his words with a single nod. Will paused, hand reaching for his pistol, feeling sweat beading on his brow, and his shoulders scrunched up under his ears with tension as they stood on the cusp of action. _I’m scared_ , he realized, heart beginning to race. It became apparent to Will in that moment that despite everything, he still had not accepted that the world was overrun with _zombies_ of all things; that he’d walk outside that door with his friends and find white eyes and gaping mouths hissing softly as dead bodies stumbled forward.

“On three, we open the door,” Jack was saying. “Me, Hannibal, and Zeller will take the lead. Everyone else hold back. Will.”

“Yeah?” the younger man had barely refrained from jumping at Jack’s barking voice calling his name.

“Keep your dogs in here until everything is clear.”

“Right.”

As if sensing that they were being spoken about, or perhaps picking up on the danger outside, a few of his canines began to whine, hackles raised and quivering, white and sharp teeth bared from behind twitching lips. Will made a single loud hissing sound to catch their attention, and then he began to corral them further back into the shop. Tension rose between the them all, humans and dogs alike, as the moment of action approached.

“One,” Jack said, loud and clear.

Will looked over his shoulder and found Hannibal partially facing him, the bit of light streaming through seams in the covered windows highlighting sharp features. 

“Two.”

Hannibal inclined his head and held Will’s rifle out, and the younger man blinked and then hurried forward to retrieve it. Closer now, he could see that Hannibal’s lips were thinned and his brow heavy. The doctor eased his other belongings off and onto the dirty floor, and then stood straight with his shoulders squared, at the ready. He reached forward and lay the back of one large hand on Will’s scruffy cheek. 

And then he was gone.

“Three. Go!”

Beverly got the door open for them, stepping back as Jack and Hannibal bounded out onto the street, Brian bringing up the rear with a harsh exhale of breath and a disparaging glance for those remaining. Will felt his blood run cold and his heart seize up as he watched Hannibal disappear out into the bright morning light, catching the barest glimpse of the monsters perking up at the scent of fresh, living blood.

****

Hannibal ignored the pain that lanced along his ribs, his body protesting as he ran, locking onto the nearest zombie with his knife brandished tightly in one hand. He had a flash of remembrance, of Will Graham, growling as he raised the bloodied metal pipe, resplendent in his fury. He stabbed the blade through the air in a vicious arc that buried the sharp end deep into his target’s head, slipping through the tender area of the thing’s temple and making its home there with a spurt of blood. He retracted his hand and pulled the blade out and moved onto the next one before the body had finished descending in a twice-dead heap.

The thrill of the hunt, that distant thrumming feeling from his past, arose within Hannibal, perhaps not as satisfying as it could be. If only the man whose forehead caved in at the next thrust of his blade were actually alive, then this venture would be more than it actually was, more than a necessity. However, it had its own charm, being able to freely dispose of them, useless creatures that they were. In moments, the four closest zombies collapsed in a heap, all of them at Hannibal’s capable hands, and when the last fell, the doctor observed as a door on the other side of the street opened and the loud man from before rushed out, followed closely by the blonde woman.

In a moment that had Hannibal’s spirits soaring and his blood singing, he felled another monster and caught sight of Gordy watching in something akin to awe. _And now you see quite clearly that I am very useful_ , Hannibal thought with an inward smirk and an outward snarl as he slashed apart one more blindly reaching thing that sought to consume even as the doctor destroyed it. It didn’t take long for the rest of them to be taken care of, Jack jumping into the fray and annihilating his own score of zombies. In a move that stunned their impromptu audience, the street was cleared of shambling movements and hungry growls in mere moments, no gunfire necessary at all.

When Hannibal perceived no more threats to his person, he stood up straight and let his hands hang at his sides. Jack did the same nearby, rotating his neck and shoulders in a stretch, big body still wound and ready to expel the adrenaline filling his insides.

“Wow!” a voice called, breaking the silence that followed the carnage. “They didn’t even need us!”

A young man flounced out from where Gordy and the woman had come from. He looked to be in his teens, no older than twenty, if even that. His cheeks were red with excitement, flop of black hair scattered over his forehead, where a nasty wound was in the process of healing, and he came to a stop next to Gordy’s female companion with a cheer. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Gordy growled. “Or you’ll bring more of them!”

Hannibal turned away, uncaring of the bickering that followed. He did, however, catch the buff man’s eye for a brief second, ascertaining that Gordy was now suitably convinced of his worth, and, more importantly, fully aware of the threat that he could potentially be, if he weren’t already after last night’s display. One side of Hannibal’s mouth lifted in a grin while he walked back to find Will. The younger man stood in the doorway of the shop still, knuckles white as he clung to the frame, nostrils flaring and blue eyes wide and glazed.

“Will,” Hannibal reached out, intending to offer some form of comfort, but Will ducked away with a gasp. 

“Don’t touch me,” Will snapped.

“Are you quite alright?” Hannibal asked, and while he let his hand drop to his side, he didn’t move away.

“I’m fine,” blue eyes narrowed and then Will disappeared back into the shop, whistling for his pack, leaving Hannibal alone with his breath caught in his chest and an unwanted amount of _hurt_ echoing in his bones.

****

When Will walked out into the street with his pack, he felt his heart begin to race, harder than it had when he watched Hannibal take down more than half of the monsters alone. The feral hunger and strength that surrounded his friend had been an eye-opener, a reminder of who and what he really was. Shaken, Will found that he couldn’t meet Hannibal’s eyes when the man returned like a loyal animal after essentially single-handedly taking out the threat. What terror had awoken inside of Will at the sight of the street fat with zombies had now evolved into a suffocating fright of the individual he had laid next to last night, whose hand soothed him into sleep and whose fingers he had clutched before, back in Wolf Trap, the both of them packed close in Will’s small bed. 

In shock, Will failed to pay much attention to the proceedings that followed, focused more on avoiding Hannibal’s stare, which he could feel burning in his direction. Distantly, he heard Jack discussing something with Gordy, and for one confusing second he became convinced that everything occurring right now could be nothing more than a dream after all. _I’m a broken record but it’s got to be true, this can’t be real. I’m going to wake up and Jack is going to call me into work. I’ll see Hannibal later in the week and-_

“Will, you there?” a hand waved in front of his face just then, cutting his wishful thinking short.

“I’m here,” Will shook his head and forced a smile in Beverly’s direction, wondering how long she had stood before him attempting to gain his attention. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be. It’s still like that for me, any time I see _them_ ,” she swallowed loudly and glanced away.

Will followed her gaze and finally allowed himself to look at the bodies spread out in the street. Blood painted the ground in gouts, staining the road and the still corpses. And it smelled, all of it. Will scrunched his nose up and turned away finally, unable to face the very prominent fact that he wouldn’t be waking up because none of it was a dream to begin with. The coppery scent of blood and the underlying sweetness of decay filled his nostrils, and even as he closed his eyes in a weak attempt to block out the bright crimson stains reaching seemingly everywhere, he couldn’t escape that part. He fought the urge to vomit, swallowing back the bile and trying to breath evenly. Panic ate at the corners of his mind steadily.

“Alright, let’s get moving,” Gordy shouted just then. 

The next several moments were a blur as Will followed the others. They moved to the alleyway just down the street where Hannibal had parked the truck yesterday, and loaded the back with their belongings once more. The pack settled without much complaint, although it had been a chore to shepherd them over, noses sniffing curiously at the blood in the air and the energy stretched taut between the humans. Buster had to be carried, his loud whines only settling down when Will held him close, and the small dog hopped around in the back of the truck a few times after being released, wanting the familiar safety of his master once more. 

“Shhh, Buster,” Will reached in and smoothed his fingers over the small dog’s head, scritching behind one ear for a moment while he tried not to be quite so aware of Hannibal nearby.

That became difficult when they both sat in the truck, the doctor at the wheel this time. In this proximity Will could smell the blood that veritably drenched his friend’s clothes, and he let himself glance at the man’s shoulder grudgingly. As if someone had dumped a bucket of red paint on him, Hannibal’s shirt and most of his pants were stained. Soon it would dry and become crusty and brown, but for now it was fresh and glaring. The younger man turned away and faced the window, silent.

“Will,” Hannibal’s accented voice sounded almost hesitant.

“Not right now,” Will interrupted. “Just- just leave me alone for now.”

“Very well.”

The sun rose steadily higher as the group split off into their vehicles, two vans housing their group and the other one, Gordy ducking into the driver’s seat of a clunky white Dodge and Jack commandeering a smaller green one. They drove unceremoniously over the corpses in the street, bumping over bones and flesh, and then began to head out of the city. Will leaned back in his seat and shut his eyes tight.

_This is real._


	12. Desolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordy stood a couple inches taller than Will, and he stared down his flat nose at him. “Look, we don’t got time for schoolyard rivalries. Let’s put the past behind us and all that jazz. ‘Kay?”
> 
> “Sure,” and they shook hands firmly, Will barely refraining from hissing as Gordy squeezed his hand hard enough to sting.we got off to a pretty rocky start,” he grunted, coming to stand over Will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this reads a little rushed! Kinda another filler chapter while they travel. I can't really say to where since I want to avoid spoilers, but it'll be revealed next chapter :D
> 
> Not beta read~

Day 8

They stopped at a gas station in the middle of nowhere when the sun began to set. There was evidence of various struggles painting the landscape, and a horrible display of piled corpses in a ditch nearby, as well as several vehicles stopped along the road, as if stalled, doors thrown open and random items strewn across the asphalt. The windows of the building itself were covered with plywood, the glass long shattered, and the entrance had been sealed shut from the inside, the doors merely rattling in their frame at a few shoves from Gordy and another man who looked like he could bench press more than Jack weighed. 

Will sat in the truck for a few minutes after Hannibal parked it and slipped out of the driver’s side silently. His chest felt tight and as if it had been filled with butterflies, and his mind raced endlessly. A glance at the rear-view mirror showed him perked ears and wagging tails, and it was that that eventually gave him the push he needed. He brushed his anxiety away and disembarked from the vehicle as well, shutting the door behind him and heading to the back to be with his pack. Ahead of the truck, the two vans that the others had driven in were parked side-by-side, dirtied along the sides with dark brown stains. The sliding door of the smaller, green one remained open, and from here Will could see Beverly and Jimmy sitting there, legs hanging out as they traded quiet words with one another. 

“Hey,” Will greeted Jack when the big man walked over, arms crossed over his chest.

“Will,” he nodded his head, eyes narrowing as he turned to the other man lingering at the hood of the truck. “Hannibal.”

“Jack,” Hannibal tipped his head forward politely. “I take it we are sleeping here tonight?”

“Apparently. They’re trying to find a way inside,” Jack sighed loudly, gaze locking onto Will. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Or several,” Will ducked his head and let out a laugh. “I don’t know. I keep hoping I’ll wake up from this nightmare already, to be honest.”

“Yeah, well when you do, let me know,” the big man chuckled quietly. “I know this is rough, and I know things are tense right now, but when we can, we’ll break away from Gordy’s crew.”

“You going to tell me why you’re with them to begin with?”

“Later,” Jack repeated his earlier sentiment, and Will opened his mouth to argue.

A screeching, metallic sound broke through the air, cutting their conversation short. Will, Hannibal, and Jack turned to face the gas station, where Gordy had finally managed to get the front door open. While they had been speaking, the blonde woman had scouted around to the back and evidently found a way inside, as it was her bruised face that greeted them all when the doors were propped open. Wordlessly, she meandered over to the white van and retrieved a large suitcase. 

“Alright,” Gordy cast his voice over the parking lot. “Let’s get inside and seal her back up. Take everything you need with you, just in case. Leave the rest in the vehicles. Doesn’t look like this place has seen many deaders in a while, so we should be fine.”

And with that, Gordy strode into the gas station without another word, followed by the man who had stood silently next to him after getting the doors opened. The teenager from earlier bounded after them carrying a bulging backpack and two stuffed duffel bags. For a few minutes they were all quiet, taking in the gas station and the darkening sky, not even the sound of birds squawking accompanying the approaching evening. To Will it was almost deafening, this silence -he peered up at the cloudy sky, and then back towards the ditch he had avoided after the first shocking glance. He wondered about their stories, who they had been when alive, and his eyes stayed locked on the bloating bodies, raking over the collapsed skulls and sightless eyes. 

“Are you well?” a voice pulled him back, and he jumped slightly, meeting Hannibal’s brown eyes before quickly turning away.

“I’m fine,” he said curtly. “Come on, let’s get inside.”

“Of course.”

Together, they retrieved their belongings, and Will guided his dogs along with them after anxiously waiting for them to relieve themselves in the grass nearby. A few times he had to click his tongue at Buster and Amy, the Bichon mix whining loudly at the smell of what he could only presume was the carnage in the ditch not far from them. In the end he managed to successfully guide them into the gas station, where Jack and the others were already dropping their bags and supplies in a dark corner, and Will frowned as he tried to recall just how long he had been staring at the corpses outside. Truthfully he wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he had zoned out entirely, and he cursed himself inwardly, beyond lucky that Hannibal had remained outside with him.

“No power,” someone announced, and Gordy swore loudly.

“Okay, get the lanterns on and some candles fucking lit,” the man grumbled. “Jack, Ronny, help me seal the doors for the night. Everyone else, move the shelves and stay together.”

The shelves were easy to move, mostly emptied of their prior occupants. A few things were snatched up here and there by the blonde woman, and Beverly pocketed something quickly as Will approached to help them make room in the gas station’s front. Afterwards, they each began to find their own spot on the floor, dropping their stuff and taking out blankets and other various things to sleep on, and Jimmy and Brian lit candles and set them gingerly along the floors here and there, as well as on the counter where a cashier would have previously stood behind.

****

“The back is clear,” Ronny said, lumbering form materializing in the dim candlelight. “There’s a bathroom, but other than that the stockroom has been raided already.”

“That’s fine,” Gordy held onto an electric lantern, the bright light throwing his features into contrast.

He set it on the counter with the candles, and then Will found himself looking into his narrowed, beady eyes. _Here we go again._ The younger man braced himself as Gordy strolled over with his hands buried in his pockets and his nose scrunched with displeasure.

“I understand we got off to a pretty rocky start,” he grunted, coming to stand over Will, who was crouched down to soothe his pack, the canines having grown excited at all of the busy movements.

“Yeah, kinda,” Will shrugged and stood. “You here to apologize?”

“Hah! Yeah, man. Something like that,” Gordy stood a couple inches taller than Will, and he stared down his flat nose at him. “Look, we don’t got time for schoolyard rivalries. Let’s put the past behind us and all that jazz. ‘Kay?”

“Sure,” and they shook hands firmly, Will barely refraining from hissing as Gordy squeezed his hand hard enough to sting.

When he turned and walked away, Will flexed his hand and glared at the man’s back. As much as he could admire Gordy’s intent, he couldn’t help but also be entirely aware of the weakness behind it, the lack of truth that made Will certain that he’d not heard the last from the loud man. In the next few minutes that passed, he found a spot very slightly removed from the others, half behind the end of a shelf sticking out and creating a vee-shaped enclosure where he spread his blanket and dropped his bag. Before he adjourned for the night, however, he fed the dogs and offered them each water messily from a bottle, aware of the wasted liquid splashing on the floor, but unable to care at the moment.

“May I join you?” a voice asked.

Will secured the cap on the bottle as he made it to his feet, and he turned around to find Hannibal standing there, weighed down under his gear. His features were arranged into a neutral expression, however Will found himself realizing rather quickly that the man was exhausted and in pain, the smallest tick around his thinned lips betraying his control. He nodded silently and gestured over to his spot, but it wasn’t until they were both settled that he became aware of just how close they lay together this time, squeezed into the tiny space and partially closed off from the others.

“Here,” Hannibal held out a plastic package to him as they lay shoulder to shoulder on the hard floor, the dogs at their feet and sealing them in warmly.

“What is it?” Will accepted the offered item without complaint, too tired to do much else. “Cookies, really?”

“Yes,” Hannibal dropped his hand to his side and closed his eyes.

“Thanks, Hannibal,” Will said gently.

He opened the wrapper, and slowly ate one of the sweet chocolate chip cookies within, breaking pieces off and enjoying it despite its dryness. He still remained uncertain around his friend, mind flashing back on the almost impossible speed and strength behind the man’s movements in the city, when he had dispatched the zombies. It wasn’t so much that he had been the Chesapeake Ripper ‘before’ everything -honestly Will had accepted that fact as much as he could, given everything. It all tied into the disbelief that had filled him with false hope, the wish and untrue certainty that everything happening would turn out to be a nasty dream. With that facade fading, Will now realized a very simple fact.

_I’ve got to get over myself and move on like everyone else is._

“Here,” he said, nudging at his friend’s side. “You too.”

Hannibal accepted the other half of the cookie and the unspoken truce, eating it with an expression that approached pained, and Will chuckled, knowing that the man did it for his benefit. 

“Not quite up to my standards, I’m afraid,” Hannibal murmured with snort.

“Yeah, well it’s probably the last time we’ll be enjoying chocolate, unless you’ve got some stashed somewhere,” Will chuckled, feigning hopefulness as he spoke.

“I do not,” the older man shifted until he faced Will completely. “Take this.”

And he held out his hand, fingers loose, palm up and empty. Will stared for a few seconds, confused, and then it clicked. He grasped Hannibal’s hand and tangled their fingers together once more, suddenly aching for closeness, nerves alighting as if he were set ablaze. It seemed ridiculous that just then, to worry about anything other than their safety, and that of his dogs. And once more he wished that they hadn’t left Wolf Trap; not because he wanted to hide and live in denial of the world’s end. No, Will knew right then that he merely wanted it to be just the two of them once more, safe and bundled and surviving if not happy. He drifted into a dreamless sleep with Hannibal warm at his side.

****

Hannibal lay awake, fingers trapped within Will’s tight grip gratefully. He could still hear the others, some whispering amongst themselves, and he could also hear the building creaking in spots as the wind picked up outside. A warm weight had come to rest over his feet, and where Hannibal would have usually twitched away from the dog curled around his toes, this time he allowed it, loathe to move and startle his sleeping friend, whose brow furrowed even in his slumber. Hannibal knew their situation could only become more precarious as the days passed. He had a distinct feeling that electricity was a thing of the past now, and not just absent from this remote location on the highway, and if that were true, he knew he would need to use the fact to his advantage somehow.

The world may belong to the undead now, but Hannibal existed as a monster in his own right, as many could attest to were they still alive. He knew that he could keep them safe.

Before he followed Will into sleep, he made a pact with himself, one that he knew could potentially alienate his friend once more, but one that became more than necessary the longer they remained within this group of people. He’d witnessed Gordy and Will’s exchange earlier from the shadows -Hannibal had also overheard the buff man speaking with Ronny, as well, in a shadowed corridor leading to the back, as he stood in the darkness as still and quiet as a statue, eavesdropping on a whispered conversation.

_I’ll kill them all before any harm comes to Will._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dude, I'd be both grateful and horrified to be in a group with Hannibal in an apocalypse of any kind LOL!


	13. Thunder Sounds like Death Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m glad you’re okay,” Will said, head resting alongside Hannibal’s own.
> 
> “Likewise,” the man’s accented voice drifted into Will’s ear like a gentle summer breeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Had to take a few days to recharge ♥
> 
> All mistakes are mine~

Day 9

Will was torn from sleep by the presence of an arm as it wrapped tightly around his middle, squeezing just shy of painful and causing him to wince. The crowded gas station was mostly dark, candles long ago sputtering out while the lantern remained lit on the counter by the entrance, and his feet were uncomfortably warm buried beneath the fur of one of his canines. Will shifted and attempted to dislodge Hannibal’s grip, but he was unsuccessful, and after several futile moments, he gave up, shut his eyes, and attempted to drift back into sleep.

He dreamt that he was back home, and the clock’s glowing digital numbers were stuck fast at 3AM. He woke up endlessly within the dream, soaked and gasping from a nightmare inside a nightmare, and each time the clock was stuck, the digits glaringly bright until they were burned onto his retinas mercilessly. Rain pattered against the window by his bed, dripping down the glass like the beads of sweat soaking his brow. A heartbeat, and then thunder boomed loudly-

Only it wasn’t thunder. 

Will snapped awake, the tightness of Hannibal’s nightly embrace having faded, and it took him a long time to make sense of anything, the dream lingering fresh behind his eyes. It was the dogs barking that eventually brought everything into focus, and he struggled to his feet as everything around him came alive with _too much_ noise. Hannibal took off, a blur of muscles and intention, hand grasping his knife, and Will cleared their little enclosure just in time to see the front door flying open behind the force of grasping, undead hands.

“ _I thought the door was fucking sealed?!_ ” someone shouted over the din of growls and panicked screams, harsh light from the lantern revealing sightless eyes and singular, hungry intent.

Winston charged away from the rest of the pack, along with Chester, while the remaining dogs whined and cowered behind their master, who was yet blinking the confusion away just in time to lift his pistol. His body was working on autopilot, survival instincts grabbing control of the reins as a lumbering, hissing deader broke away from the group and stumbled towards him. He didn’t have time to assess the rest of the room, ears ringing with the sound of his own breath and heartbeat, his own personal thunder deafening him as a rotted hand reached for him. 

“ _Will!_ ,” he heard Beverly scream, far away and through a tunnel, it seemed.

When he raised his gun hand, he still felt as if it were raining, fat drops of liquid descending to land on his eyes and nose and chin. He circled around the monster, away from the enclosure and his dogs, leading the hungry thing a few steps back before he squeezed the trigger and watched its brains splatter against the boarded up window and the formerly off-white painted wall. The _thump_ sound the thing made as it fell barely had time to register with him when a hot breath danced along the nape of his neck, jagged teeth inches away from snapping into soft flesh when he whipped around and drove it back by hitting it with the buttend of his weapon.

Will’s victory was short-lived, his attention ripped away by a hoarse scream. He briefly caught sight of Gordy smashing a length of metal into the forehead of a zombie, but it was Jack that yelled as he charged towards his wife, backed into a wall and grappling with a large deader. He couldn’t see Hannibal _anywhere_ , and his chest stung sharply; he couldn’t make himself consider the possibilities that surrounded his friend’s absence, however. The stream of undead was endless.

****

Hannibal stepped back into the front room of the gas station in time to demolish one of the lingering zombies. Being holed up in this place had been to their advantage in the end, as they were able to pick the things off as they squeezed in through the doorway. The chaos of barking, hissing, grunting, and gasps of effort faded away when Hannibal caught sight of Will snarling and digging the end of his pistol into a zombie’s tender, rotting throat, bringing it down again and again until the thing’s face sloughed off in a pile of gore and broken bone. The younger man was relentless, a monster of his own, blue eyes bright and full of _life_.

The good doctor sunk his knife deep into his own prey’s temple, preferring the easy slide that resulted in hitting that exact place, picturing it in his mind’s eye. The brown blood that sprayed into his face masked the drying stain already there, of fresher blood, red and alive and painting his teeth crimson. They wouldn’t be able to tell the difference in the end -that’s all that mattered. Hannibal heaved his weapon from betwixt the eyes of his latest enemy, and then stood to survey the damage as the last deader fell. Outside, it was yet dark, early morning present in the slight line of lightness at the horizon in the distance, glimpsed for a second before the doors slammed closed once more. There was a collective silence before Beverly slid down a wall and landed on her knees, uninjured but gasping in panic.

Hannibal returned his attention to Will Graham, who shoved suddenly passed the blonde woman to punch Gordy in the face. His fist clipped the buff man’s jaw and sent him careening into the counter behind him, away from Winston, the dog’s ears laid back and lips curled to bare bloodied teeth.

“Your dog fucking bit me, asshole!” Gordy shouted and waved his bloodied hand in the air in demonstration.

“Don’t fucking _touch_ my dogs, you fucking piece of shit,” Will hissed, uncaring of the man’s explanation. 

“Will!” Jack’s loud voice raised above them both. “Step down, Will.”

“He went for Winston first, Jack,” the younger man insisted. “I saw him!”

“I don’t care who went for what or fucking when, step _down_ ,” the big man roared. “We don’t have time for this shit.”

Will grabbed Winston’s collar and lead him away, snatching Chester’s as he headed over to the rest of the pack. Hannibal followed his friend, taking a second to survey the damage. Jimmy knelt next to Beverly, who had calmed down enough to breath again, and Brian was pressed close on her other side, wiping at the blood smearing across his face. Jack returned to Bella and held her close against his chest. They were, to Hannibal’s eye, considerably removed from Gordy’s group, who were missing one, with another injured -the young man lay on the ground nursing a fatal wound in his chest, a chunk of flesh ripped out with blunt, merciless teeth.

So they were missing two, then, essentially.

The doctor stopped near Will and fought the irrational urge to touch his friend, to set his hand on the side of a scruffy, bloodied face, or along a tense shoulder. His prior commitment in the back recesses of the gas station had taken his attention off of Will, and despite knowing the man would be able to handle himself, Hannibal still found his heart settling at the sight of him safe and alive and healthily pissed the fuck off. A familiar, comforting sight.

“Will,” he said.

“Hannibal,” the younger man replied.

They needed no other words in that moment. Hannibal knew a large amount of satisfaction as blue eyes raked up and down his person to assure their owner that the doctor was safe and alive. Otherwise, their silence spoke more words than their lips, and Will turned away to calm his fretful animals. 

****

“Where the fuck is Ronny?” Gordy’s voice interrupted Will’s attempt at calming himself as well as his pack.

He struggled to his feet, slipping slightly against a streak of blood on the hard floor. Turning, he found Gordy and the blonde woman standing near the entrance of the gas station, highlighted by the lantern sitting on the counter. Everyone remained silent as the man asked again, cutting himself off to call out Ronny’s name various times. Eventually Gordy disappeared into the back, and Will heard him cursing up a storm. 

“Wasn’t he on watch?” Will asked quietly, directing his question to Hannibal who lingered near their former resting place.

“Yes,” Hannibal answered grimly. 

Gordy returned with his features carefully controlled, skin pale and shoulders tight under his ears. It wasn’t hard to ascertain that he had found Ronny, most likely dead or gravely injured if the buff man’s countenance was anything to go by. Will couldn’t bring himself to care. His anger towards the man was still fresh, causing his fingers to twitch with the urge to punch him again and again, until Gordy resembled one of the many corpses spread around the gas station’s front room. He wanted to feel bad for how clearly he could picture the man’s body broken and bleeding out, how vivid the image was behind his eyes as he closed them and focused on stroking his hand along Chester’s short, warm fur. 

“It’s okay, boy,” he whispered.

Will jumped when a large hand fell onto his shoulder. He calmed when he noticed Hannibal had approached him, his comfort offered with a touch that made Will’s skin twitch but to do so gratefully. He straightened and turned to face his friend, pulled the older man close and embraced him, uncaring in that moment as adrenaline lit his veins on fire. Two dead tonight, he forced himself to admit. It could have been Hannibal instead. It could have been them all.

But Hannibal was safe, and Will could feel his heart thumping against his own as their chests pressed together.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Will said, head resting alongside Hannibal’s own.

“Likewise,” the man’s accented voice drifted into Will’s ear like a gentle summer breeze.

Someone cleared their throat, and Will pulled away from his friend to find Beverly lingering nearby. Her hair cascaded around her face in a matted mess, and blood stained her forehead and her clothes. Her dark eyes flitted over Will and then Hannibal.

“You’re good?” she asked, directing the question at Will.

“I’m good, Bev,” Will reassured her. “You?”

“Shaken,” she admitted. “It never gets easier, you know?”

Will walked over to her and pulled her into a hug that didn’t last very long. However, Beverly’s brow had softened and her warm body felt less tense when they pulled away. Her concern for him was evident in another once-over glance at his own blood-stained clothes, and Will gave her a small smile that eventually convinced her that he was as okay as any of them could be in their situation. She walked back over to Jimmy and Brian, and then Will was looking away, directing his gaze to Jack and Bella in a corner together whispering fervently. Just then, Gordy’s voice burst out in anger.

“He’s fucking bit, Melly,” he shouted. “Put him out of his misery before he turns.”

“Fuck you,” the blonde woman, Melly, brandished her machete. “You touch him and I’ll cut you, Gordy.”

Will turned his gaze to the teenager, who sat propped against the the counter with a pale face that the lantern’s artificial light turned even whiter. The gouge in his chest oozed blood steadily, indents visible when he tore his shirt open to get a better look at it himself. His young body shook violently, and tears tracked his dirty cheeks. Will’s sympathy for the dying boy didn’t extend to Gordy or even the woman Melly. She clearly cared for the youth, but he could tell that she knew Gordy was right. In his own experience, he hadn’t witnessed anyone alive changing -he didn’t know anything about it, how long it took, what happened when it did; he honestly wanted to continue not knowing.

****

Despite Gordy’s insistence, the boy lived. Melly saw to caring for the injury itself, and she helped him leave the building an hour later with the rest of them as they gathered all of their belongings and returned to their vehicles. Will saw to his pack first and foremost, as he would continue to do, whispering gently to comfort those that needed it. They were still frightened for the most part, tails sucked low or between their legs, ears twitching restlessly.

Will was relieved that they had opted to depart as soon as possible, as his gut told him that the roads would be safer than the gas station.

“I don’t like this,” he said, sitting in the passenger seat of the truck.

“What in particular do you speak of?” the doctor inquired.

Will wasn’t certain how to put it into words. Accepting that the world had essentially ended no longer eluded him, but what did was _purpose_. He couldn’t determine what mattered anymore, other than surviving, and if surviving was the only thing that did, then travelling wouldn’t keep them safe for long. They needed to settle in somewhere, work on a barricade and at attaining some semblance of permanency. The roads were safer than the gas station, sure, but the vehicles wouldn’t last forever.

“When the gas runs out, what will we do?” he asked aloud.

“We will continue to survive,” Hannibal stated.

They had no other choice.


	14. Doused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he opened his eyes, Gordy was strolling back to the green van and climbing in, and Will stood silently outside. He was staring at his pack of canines, who remained obediently lying down in a mass of fur and wagging tails now that their master was in sight. They would need to be fed soon, and not just the dogs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Back to updating regularly, and perhaps more than once a week! 
> 
> Not beta read~

Day 9

The big white van ran out of gas first, and the small procession came to a halt. It was nearing evening, and Hannibal waited impatiently behind the wheel of the truck as Gordy, Melly, and the kid began to pile into the green van with Jack’s crew -or at least, the woman and her charge did, the young man’s pale face taut in pain. Gordy, nose twitching like a pig, puffed out his chest and started walking over to the truck in the back.

“Great,” Hannibal tilted his head towards Will, who sat up straighter in the passenger seat after sighing out the word. 

“Allow me,” the good doctor volunteered himself.

He could smell the anger already boiling underneath Will’s flesh. While he would have been happy to observe just how his friend would deal with Gordy this time, he didn’t want to linger out here on the highway. They were incredibly vulnerable in the open as they were.

“Hello, Gordy,” Hannibal rolled his window down and edged his face out a few inches. “How can we help you?”

The man halted in front of the truck, eyes squinting between the both of them, before Gordy strode slowly over to Hannibal’s side and inserted himself rudely close, leaning with one arm against the door of the vehicle. Hannibal, moving bodily away, had to quell the sudden urge to snap his teeth at the stinking pig that had waddled into his territory.

“Mind if we put a few things in the back of your ride?” the man asked, and the tone that he spoke in made Hannibal inwardly seethe -outwardly he appeared as calm as ever, of course.

“Of course not,” the doctor offered a smile that he knew would be unnerving.

Gordy appeared unmoved by the expression, perhaps too dumb to pick up on the layer of hatred and threat that Hannibal allowed him a glimpse at. Minutes later, the pig scampered back holding two bags that he intended to stow in the back compartment. Hannibal wasn’t surprised when Will unbuckled and slipped out of the truck almost instantly.

“Just put it by our stuff,” Will instructed, pointing a finger.

“Not like I have any other choice, huh?” Gordy huffed an unamused laugh. “Fucking mutts everywhere.”

Hannibal regarded the scene through the rearview mirror with a tiny smirk, able to hear the tense conversation through his opened window. Will was not a passive individual by far, but he still exuded an air of submission when it came to larger or older men. At least, before all of this had happened -now Will had gall, and enough of it to visibly bear his teeth at the man on the other side of the truck. The ticking of the cooling engine sounded, and Hannibal shut his eyes and imagined a scene where Will tore Gordy apart, instead of how it would most likely turn out. _A shame, really._

When he opened his eyes, Gordy was strolling back to the green van and climbing in, and Will stood silently outside. He was staring at his pack of canines, who remained obediently lying down in a mass of fur and wagging tails now that their master was in sight. They would need to be fed soon, and not just the dogs.

****

Will shut the passenger side door and secured himself with the seatbelt once more. In moments, the green van rumbled to life and began to ease around the white one, and Hannibal turned the key in the ignition to start the truck with a growl.

“What happens when that van runs out of gas?” Will wondered aloud. “They can’t fit in here.”

“Likely we will run out of gas first,” Hannibal’s voice was impossibly calm.

Will turned his head and took in the sight of his friend. His nose wasn’t swollen anymore, not as bad anyway, but the bruising around it turned his skin purple and yellow and black.

“Then what?”

“Will,” Hannibal steered the truck and followed the van ahead, not looking away as he spoke, but Will still found himself comforted by the timbre of the man’s voice. “We will figure it out. For now, I want you to close your eyes and rest.”

“Alright.”

Easier not to argue, Will knew. Plus, he was exhausted. The rest that they’d gained at the gas station hadn’t been enough, but Will was starting to think nothing ever would be anymore. He tried to imagine resting in fits and starts like this forever, with someone always having to keep an eye out for him -it wasn’t sustainable. Nothing about this existence was. Regardless, Will shut his eyes tight and focused on his dogs, some part of him warmed by their safety, blanketing the darker regions of his heart and psyche. It was Hannibal’s hand resting gently on his arm that sent him on his way, however.

He woke when the truck stopped with a squeal. He blinked furiously, trying to awaken, but everything had become a blur. The only thing that made it through his confusion was the high-pitched whine of his dogs, and he jumped out of the truck with his heart slamming loudly behind his ears. Rain poured from the dark sky, the sun long having slipped below the horizon, and lightning flashed in the distance, throwing the world into bright contrast every few minutes. 

“Will!” a voice yelled.

It was Hannibal but it sounded so distant that Will could imagine that his friend was miles away instead of within the truck. The familiar accented voice called for him again and again.

His dogs- they were…

“ _Will_ , wake up!”

Will gasped, sitting forward and grunting when the seatbelt held him tight. Sweat soaked his brow and his hairline, and he blinked in confusion. _A dream, it was a dream_ , he realized. He turned to his friend and found Hannibal’s eyes boring into his own, pale brows furrowed in concentration or concern or both.

“I’m awake,” Will muttered.

It was then that the young man noticed that the truck had stopped. No rain fell on the earth around them, thankfully, and before them loomed a large building, metal and rusted. It appeared to be a warehouse of some sort, and in the distance, Will could see the dots of houses, a small town spread within a forest. The sun sat fat and pink as it lowered.

“Is it safe to stop here?” Will asked, not entirely awake or thinking clearly.

“No, but we have no choice,” the soft pressure of Hannibal’s hand returned to Will’s arm. “Are you well?”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. Just a bad dream,” _a nightmare like everything else_.

They slipped out of the truck as the others filed out of the green van. Jack stood off to one side, stretching his arms and pressing a large hand into the small of his back. His wife approached him, and together they appeared to consider the town not too far away. Will avoided looking there, his body filled with tension and the sure feeling that the only thing concentrated civilization would offer would be more bodies that hissed and groaned and growled wetly. 

“If they intend to go into that town-” Will started, and then stopped, closing his mouth hard with a click. 

“It will be fine, Will.”

So calm, so insistent. So _sure_. Will walked around the truck to face his friend, filled with a rage so potent that he knew the second when Hannibal noticed it. The doctor’s shoulders straightened as he rose to his full height and stared into Will’s eyes with that same insistence, a certainty that apparently ensured their safety, as if Hannibal could predict the future.

“You don’t know that,” Will snapped. “You can’t just keep saying that to me. I’m not a child, Doctor Lecter. So please refrain from patronizing me.”

“I am doing nothing of the sort, Will,” Hannibal’s voice came out calm but clipped.

Will growled, anger rising up inside of him as if it were a wave before it crashed against his ribcage and suffused him with negative energy. He took another step forward, bringing himself in closer to his friend.

“Stop telling me that everything is going to be _fine_ ,” he hissed. “You don’t know that, Hannibal. We could all die, right now.”

“I will not let you die,” the older man claimed.

“That’s not your choice!” Will shouted.

He couldn’t understand how his friend could speak these words as if they were law. It made no sense for Hannibal, a man of logic and medicines, a doctor of the _mind_ , to spin tales and spout words that might as well be meaningless. Those eyes, though -Will flinched and snapped his gaze away, biting down hard on his bottom lip. 

“You’re correct,” Hannibal said softly.

And Will found himself drawn close, pressed into a broad chest, with strong arms enfolding around him. Will felt his rage ebb and then fade, replaced with a deadly calm. He drew his friend closer still, wrapping his own arms around Hannibal and digging his nose into the man’s neck.

“I’m correct,” Will whispered into warm skin.

“You are.”

Hannibal’s voice tickled his ear, and Will shut his eyes as he felt the man’s lips brush the sensitive tip. He wondered when the Chesapeake Ripper had gained the power to calm him with a mere embrace. _Does it even matter?_ No, Will decided. He held tighter, suddenly certain that Hannibal was the correct one.

“Everything okay over here?” a voice interrupted them.

Will drew back and found Brian staring between them uncertainly. He didn’t look well, skin pale and eyes tired. Will imagined they all looked similar, though. He released Hannibal and stepped away, suddenly aware of the fact that several people’s eyes were on them -Jack and Bella, Jimmy and Beverly, all of them facing towards them. Jack’s gaze was the heaviest.

“Panic attack,” Will said, because that wasn’t far from the truth. “Everything’s fine. Are we heading in now?”

“Yeah. Uhm,” Brian looked away and scuffed one of his feet along the ground. “Gordy says you can, uh…’be a doll and bring his shit in.’”

“He sent you over here to tell us that?” Will asked.

“Yeah,” the man scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“Thank you, Mister Zeller,” Hannibal said, inclining his head.

Brian nodded stiffly and then walked away. Will felt his rage resurface, and he suddenly noticed that Gordy was leaning against the van with his arms crossed, looking straight at him with a smirk on his stupid face. It was a challenge, issued where everyone could see. 

Will turned away and headed to the back of the truck wordlessly.

****

The interior of the building was open and hollow. It wasn’t empty, however. Will heard _them_ , the zombies, the second the doors were pulled open with a squeal. Luckily, only half a dozen of them wobbled within, and were disposed of easily, the corpses dragged out by Jack and Hannibal. Will dropped Gordy’s shit inside, and then returned to the truck to let his dogs out. They ran excitedly around his legs, finally able to stretch and feel the ground beneath their paws. Will focused on giving them water to lap up greedily, filling a large bowl twice for them. He decided that he would feed them once they had settled within the warehouse -and himself, for that matter. He was starved, having snacked once as they drove, devouring another granola bar.

“I should have brought my fishing gear,” Will said when Hannibal returned as well to retrieve their belongings.

“Perhaps we will find some within the town,” his friend said.

Will looked at the town once more, the world darkening steadily. His stomach tightened with anxiety the longer he stared.

“We shouldn’t go into that town,” Will said softly.

There was no explanation that Will could offer, nothing concrete other than the obvious dangers. It may not be a large town, even, but who knew just how many zombies walked the streets or hid inside homes. Furthermore, Will could imagine the place had already been ransacked, if not by other individuals traveling through, then by those that had survived who lived there initially. Frankly, Will just had a _very bad feeling_ about it, and that should have been enough: were it only he and Hannibal, it would have been more than enough.

Will said nothing more, and together they walked towards the warehouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Hanni and Will, always getting interrupted. THEY JUST WANT A HUG, GAWSH.
> 
> <3


	15. Dread the Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dread filled Will in an instant, and he snapped his gaze over to Hannibal. The doctor had paused on his way over to Will, and now he looked through the shadows at Gordy, his expression blank.
> 
> “No,” Will said loudly. “You can’t go there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay once more! Life keeps throwing me curve balls :( I'm trying to catch them! I wont abandon this story, though!! Pinky promise ♥
> 
> Not beta read~

Day 9-10

No electricity existed within the warehouse to begin with, and so before the doors were closed and sealed (not that they were letting much light in, with night approaching), a couple candles from their diminishing supply were lit, and the lantern was set in the middle of the tired group. Will looked at the shadows around them once the door was shut with a click, feeling quite suddenly as if they were slowly encroaching forward to swallow everyone up. Even so, he allowed his pack to sniff around, making a soft sound if any of them went too far, particularly Buster, who had an adventurous streak that often overtook his innate caution. 

“So what now?” Jack’s voice echoed slightly in the building.

Will stopped moving and turned around to face the big man, who had spoken to Gordy. He looked exhausted, and more than that, angry, and Will wondered again why he deferred to the piece of shit that was their ‘leader’. 

“Me, you, and Mister Knife go into town tomorrow, at first light,” Gordy answered, grunting slightly as he flopped onto the ground to rest next to Melly and the kid, who still clung to life with a shaking determination.

Dread filled Will in an instant, and he snapped his gaze over to Hannibal. The doctor had paused on his way over to Will, and now he looked through the shadows at Gordy, his expression blank.

“No,” Will said loudly. “You can’t go there.”

“And why the fuck not?” Gordy snapped.

It was obvious that he was taking Will’s words as a challenge to his supposed authority. In an instant, the man was back onto his feet, and the room was filled with tension, everyone’s eyes snapped to Will and the angry man. Will himself took a deep breath and then squared his shoulders.

“I can’t tell you exactly why, but I just know there’s something there, something dangerous,” Will finally spoke. “Something worse than a few zombies to take down.”

“You a fucking psychic then?” the incredulous reply came coupled with Gordy’s raised brows and a silent snarl.

“No, but if you had half of a fucking brain, you’d notice it too.”

Silence.

Will’s nostrils flared, and he noticed Jack shaking his head and attempting to gesture for him to remain quiet. Beverly had her face buried into her hands, but she looked up just then.

“Will’s right,” she said. “I felt it too.”

“Fucking felt what? You’re both fucking crazy. We’re going into the town to look for supplies, and that’s fucking that,” Gordy’s voice was a shout now, the man seemingly uncaring about being heard.

As if his words were final, the buff man returned to his blankets and lay down, turning onto his side to sleep. The room was left heavy with unfinished business, and Will had to calm his breathing to prevent himself from being taken over by rage. He didn’t have any answers to give anyone other than that he _knew_ there would be trouble in that town. His body gave him nothing other than that, no clues as to what or who resided in that little place that would be a threat; he just knew the second he saw it in the distance that there was something very wrong.

“Come, Will,” Hannibal’s soft voice broke through his thoughts. “Let’s rest.”

With a sigh, Will followed.

****

Hannibal could feel _it_ as well. Like Will, his entire form nearly vibrated with the surety that there would be a conflict of some sort, an attack most likely. Unlike Will, Hannibal was excited, because as ‘Mister Knife’, he would be joining Jack and Gordy on the adventure at first light. He lead Will towards their spot, where he’d spread two blankets, one on top of the other. He was no longer intent on being subtle about the fact that they would be sharing the space, and would continue to do so, and Will didn’t seem to care one way or another. After he got his dogs settled, the younger man dropped unceremoniously onto one side and curled up, hand resting on his hip over the pistol he kept close at all times.

Hannibal peered around the room at large, eyes settling momentarily on Melly, his exceptional vision noting that she was looking straight at him. Curious, he tilted his head, and barely managed not to smirk when she offered a single, curt nod. Hannibal returned it subtly, and then turned to join Will, settling behind him and testing the waters by moving closer, closer, until his chest came to rest against the younger man’s back. No tensing, no arguing, but that was because Will had already sunk into sleep, lights out after having lain down. 

_Rest now, dear Will,_ he thought, sneaking his arm beneath Will’s to wrap it around the sleeping man’s waist. _Tomorrow, I will take care of everything._

****

Dawn came with little stabs of light through the space beneath the doors, and Hannibal, already awake, observed as Jack untangled himself from Bella with a parting kiss. Gordy got to his feet with a groan, and then donned his weapons, which consisted of a machete much like Melly’s, and a can of what appeared to be Mace. Hannibal already had his knife, never let it out of his sight in fact, and he lay on his back as he waited for the signal to go. Will stirred, and then sat up quickly in a panic.

“I’m here,” Hannibal stated reassuringly.

“Hannibal,” Will sighed and blinked sleepily, and then clasped at his waist. “Take this, just in case. Please.”

Hannibal accepted the pistol without complaint, although inside his heart skipped a beat. Will’s eyes were wide in the dark, lips turned down in a frown that said many things without speaking. Knowing that his friend worried about his safety validated a choice number of his own worries and questions. He reached between them and clasped one of Will’s hands tightly after tucking the gun away. Their fingers tangled hotly, a brief sheen of sweat covering Will.

“I will return to you, Will,” Hannibal said quietly. “I promise.”

Will opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly Gordy’s voice was filling the place, “Alright, let’s get going. Jack, Mister Knife, get what you need and then meet me outside. Everyone else, hold down the fort while we’re gone.”

Hannibal jumped to his feet in a single smooth movement, and then helped Will to his own, unable to keep his features from softening quite then at how exhausted and vulnerable the younger man appeared. He wanted to bundle the man up and hold him close and shield him from everything the world could throw at them, and wasn’t that just a ridiculous thought. Hannibal chalked it up to his own tiredness, and his own need to protect his friend, nothing less or more. He released Will’s hand and then nodded at him once before striding out of the building, the door thrown wide by Gordy, which allowed soft morning light to flood in. 

Jack joined them a moment later, perhaps not wanting to leave them alone together. Hannibal admired the gesture, but he knew that regardless, he would be dealing with a lot more than the potential danger within the town.

Gordy had to go.

“Let’s go,” said man barked, sleep dragging his voice into hoarseness. “We’ll take the van in, park at the outskirts to keep our entrance quiet.”

They piled into the green van, Gordy at the wheel and Jack next to him in the passenger’s seat. Hannibal sat in the middle seat without complaint and slid the door shut, noticing as he did that Melly loitered outside of the warehouse. She turned away quickly, and then walked back into the building.

****

Will didn’t know what to do with himself while they waited. He considered sleeping more, but gave up on that quickly when he realized that everyone else was awake and puttering around. Brian and Jimmy sat next to each other rooting through a bag opened between them, and Beverly was wandering into the deeper shadows of the room.

“Bathroom,” she said sheepishly, noting Will’s gaze. 

The young man tried to smile in response. It was a poor effort, and he got to his feet to see to giving his dogs food and water. He felt his body clench painfully as he moved, again filled with an all-encompassing dread that had him nearly breathless a few times. His worry for Hannibal didn’t extend to his other group members, even to Jack, who he wouldn’t want to see hurt, but who he would readily see sacrificed if it meant that the doctor would return to him. He didn’t let himself think on that fact long, instead focusing on the task at hand.

“Should we close the door?” Beverly asked once she’d returned.

“I thought the light would do us good,” Melly responded. “For now.”

Will watched Beverly glance from the blond woman to the injured teenager. He followed her gaze, and knew immediately that the kid was on his way out. His breath came with a rattle, and his skin was pale and sweating, hair clinging to his forehead in damp clumps. Again, Will wondered how long it would take for the infection to turn him into one of the gangling monsters that had bit him. 

Again, Will decided that he didn’t want to know.

Instead, he took care of his animals, saddened that he couldn’t give them more than two handfuls of kibble each, and he filled the bowl only halfway this time with water, because that’s all he had left. He didn’t care about his own needs for now, had taken his own drink of it before relinquishing it to his pack. And he would continue to sacrifice them for the animals, for his friends and family. For now, he didn’t really care about anything else, other than Hannibal, who was yet traveling into the danger that lingered in the very air around the town.

_You promised to return. So you better fucking do it._

Will didn’t know how much time passed before the kid finally died. He only knew that it _had_ happened, because Melly let out a single sob before she stood and dragged the still body out into the late morning sun. She returned wiping blood off of her machete onto her own clothes, head low in mourning.

“Help me with this,” she requested of the room, waving the machete towards the door.

Beverly was the first to move, staggering tiredly to her feet and walking across the steel floor. Together, the women closed the doors, though they didn’t bother to throw the lock. Will, sitting amongst his dogs, wanted to get up and offer his condolences like Beverly was now doing. He could see the two women trading whispered words, watched Beverly lay her hand on Melly’s shoulder for a few seconds. Honestly, Will couldn’t bring himself to care in the end. He knew they would likely be saying goodbye to a lot of people in the future, knew each and every one of them had the chance to be bitten or torn apart with rotted teeth.

Across the room, he noticed Bella sitting crossed legged. As if noticing the weight of his eyes, her head raised towards him, and Will knew immediately that Jack’s wife didn’t care either, and didn’t want to pretend to. She saw the truth as it was.

None of them were safe.

Will turned away and settled on the blankets Hannibal had spread last night, laying on his side and beckoning to his dogs. With soft grunts, they curled up around him and went to sleep. Will remained awake for a long time as he listened to the others move around or converse softly. Within him, he found himself endlessly worrying about Hannibal, and when he closed his eyes he could clearly see the three men getting out of the van after parking it under a tree on the shoulder of the road. 

In his mind’s eye, he saw them walk side by side by side into the little town, where certain death awaited.

When Will fell asleep, it was to this image, of the men slowly fading from view. Hannibal’s back was the last to leave his sight, and with that absence, Will felt the world open up in a void to swallow them all whole. Will dreamt that they never returned, slept fitfully as a result, and he didn’t wake up for many hours, and only then because there was a loud pounding at the doors of the warehouse.

Jack fell into the room with a gasp, shoulders heaving, and Will’s heart skipped a beat in terror.


	16. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack heaved a breath in and then out, gaining his feet just barely. Bella was quick to her own feet, charging across the room to support her husband, worrying at him and the blood staining him _everywhere_.
> 
> “Not mine,” the big man gasped. “The blood -it’s not mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't want any of us to linger in cliffhanger hell for long! ♥
> 
> Not beta read~

Day 10

Jack heaved a breath in and then out, gaining his feet just barely. Bella was quick to her own feet, charging across the room to support her husband, worrying at him and the blood staining him _everywhere_.

“Not mine,” the big man gasped. “The blood -it’s not mine.”

“What happened?” Jimmy asked, eyes wide as he joined Bella at Jack’s other side.

Will remained sitting for a long time, shock bleeding into his system as he took in the red stains painting Jack’s clothes and parts of his face. He could tell by the vibrant shade that it wasn’t from a zombie, most of _them_ letting out a gout of darker blood when pierced or smashed apart. 

“What happened?” Will demanded, standing. “Jack, where is Hannibal?”

“Let him catch his breath,” Bella snapped at Will.

Her brown eyes were narrowed dangerously, lip curled at Will, who felt a surge of anger bring him a step forward. Anger and panic and _fear_. Even so, he managed to wrangle himself under some semblance of control, seeing a worried wife caring for her husband and unable to find fault in her defensive behavior. Still, he stood there watching Jack calm down and wipe at the blood on his face, as the man assured Bella that he was okay, he was fine. Then, Jack looked over at Will.

“I don’t know, Will,” he said gravely. “We got separated.”

“What do you mean, separated? How? _What happened_?” another step forward, heart in Will’s throat.

“It was confusing, Will. We were attacked,” Jack scrubbed a hand over his head. “Not by deaders. It was gunfire.”

Will fell silent. His heart was no longer in his throat, thrumming in his esophagus: now it dropped low into his gut, a heavy weight that dragged him down, down, until he was sitting once more. If the blood all over Jack wasn’t his own, did that mean it was Hannibal’s? All at once, the capacity for which Will cared for his friend became apparent to him. The truth startled him, but he accepted it, and he gained his feet once more and marched towards Jack.

“Did you drive the van back?” he asked.

“Yeah it’s outside,” Jack answered, and then his eyes widened. “You’re not going after him, Will.”

“Who are you to tell me what to do?” the young man nearly growled, hell-bent on going after Hannibal if it were the last thing he did while alive.

“He’s right, Will,” Beverly’s soft hand dropped onto his shoulder, and she didn’t let him shrug it off.

“Bev,” Will hissed. “Please, don’t do-”

“No. I’m not going to stand idly by and let you walk into certain death,” she said.

Her face softened, and Will couldn’t help his own frame from easing itself of tension, some of it at least. 

“You saw how Hannibal fights,” she continued. “He’s a strong man. If he’s alive, he’ll make it back.”

“He was alive when I left,” Jack said. “He _told_ me to leave. We got behind a dumpster and he told me to come back if I could. So I did.”

“Then whose blood are you wearing, Jack?” Will suddenly knew the answer before he’d even finished asking the question.

Jack frowned, and then turned his head, looking towards Melly. The blond woman hadn’t stood this entire time, just sat with her knees curled close to her chest, hair falling into her face. At their silence, one eye peeked out from between a few blond strands.

“I don’t know if he’s dead,” Jack told her. “But Gordy got shot. He was in front of us, and the spray hit us both. Hannibal got me out of range before I could see anything else.”

Melly didn’t answer, just stared at them for a few more seconds, before she looked back towards her lap. Will stood dumbly, adrenaline surging through his veins and his head pounding, fingers twitching with the need to do something, _anything_. But Beverly’s hand grounded him, made him think instead of act. He knew charging solo into a town that felt like death would do nothing but ascertain his own. 

And Hannibal had promised.

****

There were only five of them, altogether. Firing from above had given them the advantage and the facade of being more dangerous than they really were. Hannibal crouched behind the dumpster for a long time, eyes closed and listening -he could hear Gordy groaning in pain as he bled out on the pavement, and further away, trapped behind a flimsy fence, the hungry sounds of about a dozen or more zombies -where they had been heading, curious. He waited until he heard a new voice, distant, and then he moved.

The first man went down without a sound, throat slit and lowered to die in the corner of a dark, trashed room. 

Hannibal stalked into a hallway littered with torn clothes, blood stains, and a festering corpse. His steps were light as he returned downstairs to slip out the back door. On his belt was a walkie-talkie, stolen off of the body he had just taken the life from. The others were easy to track thanks to the device, and he killed two more loners, who were stationed at windows strategically and met their end instead of anyone else’s. Honestly, Hannibal didn’t blame any of them for what they did -they had to survive too, and from what he could tell, the remainder of this little town had slim pickings indeed. And yet, they had attacked the wrong people, Hannibal especially, and the doctor wouldn’t allow that to go unanswered.

He’d promised Will that he would return.

And so he would, but not before he took care of the last two, who huddled behind a reinforced door that had once been a freezer in the back of a small diner, one that opened inwards, which let him know that it hadn’t always been a place to store cold foods. With the electricity gone, it now existed as any other room did for people like them, as shelter and perceived safety. It took Hannibal five minutes to bust it down, charging his side into it and ignoring the jolting of his exhausted, injured body.

“What the fuck, man?” one of them cried out. “We’ll shoot, you know? We will!”

The door swung open with a shudder, and Hannibal charged in faster than they could lift their ungainly guns. He slit the nearest throat, let the body fall and splash him with blood, and then backhanded the last man. The shotgun dropped from his shaking hands, and he landed on the ground with a grunt of pain, only to look up at Hannibal. Eyes wide, the man pissed himself almost immediately.

“Disgusting,” Hannibal stated.

He dispatched the quivering figure with a stab that sank his blade deep into soft flesh, a fatal wound at his neck. It wasn’t a quick death, however. Hannibal walked away after surveying the little room, snatching up a single fabric bag stuffed with canned goods and other foodstuffs. Eyes forward, mind shut down under his singular intention to survive, Hannibal left the diner and returned to the crowded street that they had been walking down when first attacked.

Gordy lay where Hannibal had last seen him, still alive and wheezing in and out. The bullet had passed through his guts and narrowly missed Jack, who had been behind the buff man, their so-called leader. Piggish eyes glared up at him from the pavement. His bald head shone with sweat, and blood oozed out from between his lips.

“Hello, Gordy,” Hannibal greeted, standing over the man.

“Help me up,” the man squawked. “Come on. You’re a fucking doctor, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

Hannibal didn’t smile or frown, didn’t even raise a brow. He did set the bag onto the ground however, slowly, watching Gordy watch him. And then, making sure the bright, panicked eyes were still on him, Hannibal pulled Will’s service gun out from its home at his waistband. He made sure to take his time checking that it was loaded, and then he cocked it with a loud click that seemed to echo in the street.

“I heard you and Ronny,” Hannibal finally spoke. “Back at the gas station. I hid behind a rotating shelf of cookies. It’s a wonder that either of you didn’t see me.”

Gordy’s eyes widened. He looked from the gun, which pointed towards the ground, and the man standing over him, and he knew that he wouldn’t live past this day, this hour even. Gordy saw in that instant that Mister Knife was worse than the bandits that shot him, than the monsters that pushed and pulled at the fence nearby. He saw his death before it actually happened, and despite his tendency to be loud and brash, now Gordy could find no words.

“Will is mine,” Hannibal spoke. “I will let no one take him from me, least of all you.”

Hannibal squeezed the trigger, aiming quicker than Gordy could track, and the echoing bang that followed could be heard throughout the tiny town. He watched Gordy’s head twitch violently as the bullet struck between his eyes and through his brain to hit the pavement at the back of his head. Blood trickled from the bullet wound, and his pig-face was frozen in fear as a crimson puddle grew on the ground beneath him. 

“I always keep my promise,” Hannibal said into the still air.

Then he turned and retrieved the bag, shouldered it with a quiet grunt, and began to walk away.

****

Will sat uneasily, back straight against the cold wall behind him. He didn’t know how many hours had passed since Jack returned. Winston’s head lay in his lap, and he stroked between his dog’s ears every now and then, grateful for the warm, supporting weight. The rest of his pack lay around him, content after being allowed outside earlier with their master’s eye safely on them.

“Here, Will, eat,” a voice interrupted Will’s forced calm, and he found Jack offering him a can.

“I’m not hungry,” Will said.

“I don’t care. You need the food,” Jack’s brow raised and the gap in his teeth was bared momentarily -he shook the can slightly.

Giving in, Will accepted the food, a half-full can of beans, still cold. For their own reasons, they hadn’t built a fire, most of them revolving around the need to close the door now that the sun was beginning to drop. There wasn’t any other opening within the steel warehouse to safely circulate the smoke from the fire, so they ate their food unheated. Will didn’t care either way, not tasting the beans as he shoveled a few spoonfuls into his mouth, chewing them enough to wince at the gushy texture and then forcing himself to swallow. When he finished, he set the can on the floor next to him and then resumed looking forward.

In his mind, he counted. He’d made it to three thousand and eighty-four when his heart started beating faster once more. Five thousand and three, and he wanted to go after Hannibal again. Ten thousand on the dot when they all heard an engine purring outside of the warehouse, and collectively saw the sweep of headlights slash through the crack at the bottom of the door and along the sides of it. 

Will had the thing opened before anyone else could react.

****

The sun sat fat and dimming on the horizon when Hannibal pulled up in front of the warehouse. He was exhausted, physically so, and wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep for many hours with Will close at his side, safe and alive. Again, that little spot deep inside of him unfurled its wings and fluttered at the uncharacteristically tender feelings that arose when he thought of his friend, the ones that made him smile when he saw the aforementioned man bolt out of the warehouse just then. Hannibal let the engine die, pulling the ring of keys out of it and dropping them onto the seat behind him once he’d climbed out. The car he’d taken had belonged to one of the men he had killed, or so he presumed -likely they had stolen it just as he had, but could anything honestly be stolen in this world now?

“You’re okay,” Will said, breathless, coming to a standstill in front of Hannibal. “When Jack got back, I wasn’t certain. I thought yo- I was scared that you were-”

Hannibal’s younger friend seemed to shrink into himself, and he observed Will stutter over the phrase he already knew the words of.

“I promised that I would return to you,” Hannibal murmured, drawing the man close.

Will let out a heavy sigh and then wrapped his arms around Hannibal, closing the distance between them until they were chest to chest and uncaring of the blood covering the doctor’s front. Hannibal lay his head against Will’s and absorbed the warmth coming off the other’s body, and he inhaled quietly of the relief that filled his friend nearly to the brim. Promise made and kept, the older man allowed himself to relax and feel that same relief too.

“I promised that I would keep you safe,” he whispered into Will’s ear.

Night drew close, and soon they parted and returned to the warehouse, and to the others that remained of their small, diminishing group.


	17. Brief Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We are in a new world,” Hannibal stated. “I would be lying if I told you I knew exactly what ‘this’ is, but I have many ideas.”
> 
> “We’re connected now,” Will responded, one brow raised. “I would question that alone after learning the truth of you. But you’ve kept me safe, and that’s starting to mean more to me than anything else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting into a nice routine that will hopefully equal more frequent updates.
> 
> Not beta read!

Day 11

Hannibal walked stiffly over to the blankets that he shared with Will, laid down as gracefully as a man could covered in drying blood, and then fell into a deep sleep. Will watched over him for a long time, well into the night and until he couldn’t see the man’s features at all in the sparse light from the dimmed lantern, whose radius ended a foot away from them. Leaning against the wall behind him, Will shut his eyes and listened to his dogs breathing steadily, and then he listened for Hannibal’s quiet inhalation and louder exhalation. Then, centering himself, Will accepted that his friend had returned safely.

But what of Gordy?

Will still only had Jack’s brief explanation, his sputtered ‘gunfire’ telling him that there were vagrants with a side of violence born in the world they existed in now. Born of necessity, unlike looters in other, less disastrous circumstances. Will wondered if they were all dead now, or if Hannibal had had to sneak around them to leave the little town. There were a lot of questions that filled the young man’s mind, and they would remain unanswered for a long time. He eased himself down until he was lying next to Hannibal, curled on his side and facing his friend, who slept deeper than Will had ever witnessed, perhaps truly resting now instead of the half-awake state he adopted at night. Will shut his eyes and reached out to set his hand against Hannibal’s back, fanning out his fingers and feeling the warm muscles beneath the stained shirt expanding and contracting with his breaths.

At dawn’s light, the doctor was yet asleep, and Will stood, exhausted. He’d woken up many times to reassure himself that his friend really did lay next to him, and as such, he hadn’t slept much. He stumbled outside, the door already thrown wide, clicking softly at his dogs as he retrieved his rifle from where it lay. His service pistol sat within arm’s reach in front of Hannibal, left there intentionally. 

Melly leaned against the end of the rotting picnic table off to the warehouse’s right, the wood stained and overgrown with weeds and untended grass that nearly reached the seats. Her blond hair was tied back with a torn length of cloth, the thick locks barely restrained, and Will could see that the bruise around her eye had begun to fade slightly. He cast a cursory gaze around the field, and seeing nothing or nobody other than the woman and his pack of canines, he relaxed slightly. Will clicked at his dogs and let them search the grass around front to relieve themselves and to enjoy the fresh air of this isolated place.

“I expected there to be more,” Melly said when Will approached.

“More what?” Will had a few answers to that himself.

“More chaos. More deaders. More strife. Though I guess we got that last one more than we need already,” she looked over at Will very briefly before directing her gaze to the grss. “I know we’re out in the sticks and all but I just -I expected more.”

“I’d say that’s a good thing,” the young man walked closer until he was leaning on the table too, at one corner, not preferring to share much space with the woman. “Though I suppose that also could mean we’re in the proverbial eye of the storm.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking. I don’t think luck will stay with us, specially if we go into that town ourselves.”

Will glanced at Melly once more and saw that she had drawn herself tightly inwards, as if she were attempting to physically shrink. 

“You don’t want to find Gordy?” Will asked, tactless but curious.

“Hah,” Melly looked up at the sky, her single laugh an almost violent outburst. “I suppose you think that because I was with him, I liked him.”

“An incorrect assumption, apparently.”

“Yep. He was my husband’s brother. Never really liked him, but he was with us when it all went down. It helped to stay together.”

Some part of Will softened when Melly leaned down to pet one of the dogs that had wandered over and started sniffing at her legs. Still, though, his desire to know her, to see her as someone other than another person in the group striving for the same thing as he, did not exist. He wished it could, wished it could extend to everyone.

“I know ya’ll killed Mike,” she said suddenly, voice empty. “I stayed back, listened at the door. Not very polite, I know.”

Will tensed, opening his mouth to say something, to question or argue or to make an excuse. It didn’t matter -Melly raised one hand in a stopping motion.

“I don’t want apologies. He was a dirty man, dirty in all the wrong ways. The last thing he gave me was this bruise,” she pointed to her face. “And a lot of others along the way. I was going to kill him myself when I saw the state of things.”

“Him and his buddy attacked me and Hannibal. Gave him some bruises too, not to mention some tender, if not cracked ribs,” Will snorted. “Can I correctly assume now that Gordy’s absence is no skin off your back?”

“You can.”

They trailed off into silence as the dogs relieved themselves and sniffed around the rickety picnic table, which creaked when one of the larger animals rubbed their side against it. Will focused his gaze on the morning sky, amazed that he could take this time to observe the expanse of soft blue and the dusting of marshmallow-white clouds. Now, at the end of the world, he could still do this. Melly’s words came back to him, sunk from his brain into his chest and then down into his stomach, where it curled up into heavy rock of dread. She was absolutely right -there should be _more_.

There would be more.

A click of a foot meeting the pavement directly outside of the warehouse caught both of their attention, and Will felt some of that dread fade at the sight of Hannibal. The man had changed his shirt, wearing a simple beige short-sleeved button-down and sweatpants that Will realized were his own. He couldn’t feel insulted that the man had searched through his own things, much less that he wore them, because as far as the younger man was concerned, everything that he owned belonged to his friend as well. He was certain that Hannibal would feel the same, unsure _how_ he did, but he knew it like he had known that the little place in the distance should have been avoided. And honestly, what did clothes mean now other than to cover their bodies, or keep them warm and provide one of the only comforts left?

Hannibal paused halfway between the door and the table, having noticed Melly a short distance away from Will. Something ticked in his face, and Will stood up straighter. Before he could open his mouth, Melly left, circling around the table and then passing Hannibal, eyes on the ground again. She disappeared into the warehouse; Will only noticed in the periphery of his vision, eyes focused on Hannibal, who stood there _alive_.

“Hi,” Will greeted. 

“Good morning, Will,” Hannibal’s voice sounded clear, and while the area around his nose still bloomed with bruises, and while he still looked like someone had run him over with the treads of a tank, he looked more alive than he had since returning from the unfortunate escapade into the town.

“Nice day out, huh?”

The doctor took Melly’s spot next to Will and joined him as he looked upwards again. God, but it was so very beautiful. The air smelled clean and the silence lay over them heavy without being suffocating. Honestly, everything was that much lighter in Hannibal’s presence somehow, a fact that Will chose not to put much thought into. Their confrontation back in Wolf Trap, when Will realized that his friend had been the Chesapeake Ripper all along, seemed far away, as if it hadn’t even happened or it had been a memory of years past. In a way, Will considered himself reborn, and the growing connection to the man next to him felt right just as most everything else did wrong.

“It is rather nice indeed,” Hannibal agreed, standing still and deciding not to touch the picnic table.

Will, however, moved around the table and then sat down, testing the weight and facing field that spread out around the warehouse. It held him despite squealing softly and shifting a tad. He looked over at his friend and reached forward, searching for the other’s hand and acting without thinking. That felt right, too.

“Sit. You’ll get dirty again anyway,” Will said softly.

“A sad truth,” brown eyes squinted with a short-lived smile, and then the man made his way over to sit next to Will, near enough that their shoulders touched.

Their hands now clasped together and resting on Will’s thigh, the two men sat close in the morning sunlight, content to rest in silence for a little while. The dogs, having taken care of their business, sniffed around or lay in the grass, and two of the smaller ones were play fighting with mock snarls. It seemed as if they were merely on a road trip, just the two of them. Reality came back to Will in the form of his own exhaustion, having stayed up most of the night. Still, he looked over at Hannibal, eyes shifting over his regal features, and he smiled.

“I don’t know what this is,” Will said when Hannibal’s eyes met his own. “This thing developing between us. For a long time I questioned anything nice no matter the consequences, but now I find there’s no point.”

“We are in a new world,” Hannibal stated. “I would be lying if I told you I knew exactly what ‘this’ is, but I have many ideas.”

“We’re connected now,” Will responded, one brow raised. “I would question that alone after learning the truth of you. But you’ve kept me safe, and that’s starting to mean more to me than anything else.”

“And I will continue to, Will.”

A promise. Another one -and Hannibal Lecter always kept his promises, Will knew.

“Thank you,” Will Graham said, and he realized that it was the first time he had done so, thanking this man for what he’d already done.

Hannibal squeezed Will’s hand briefly before letting go, and instead he wrapped his arm around the younger man, fingers coming to rest along his side. Will tensed at first, and then relaxed and leaned more thoroughly into his friend, until his head rested on the man’s shoulder lightly. Together, they took a breath and let it out into the warming air in tandem. No other words were needed for now.

****

Will, a welcome weight at his side, made Hannibal’s thoughts fade away into the distance, until the only thing he focused on were the most basic of senses regarding his friend. Touch: Will’s head on his shoulder, curls tickling his neck. Smell: blood and sweat and musk, and beneath it all -something sweet and feverish. Hannibal paused and leaned his head to the side until his nose pressed into Will’s hair. 

“We should head back in,” Will whispered. “ Get together and figure out what’s going to happen from here on out.”

“I believe that is the best option right now,” Hannibal agreed, although he already knew what he would be doing today, and most likely tonight as well.

Still the young man didn’t move, head shifting to rub his own nose into Hannibal’s shirt as he took a deep breath. The monster inside of the doctor retracted its claws and purred contentedly at the gentle attention from Will. Shortly, however, the other moved away and stood, clearing his throat and then looking down at Hannibal with a lopsided smile.

“I really don’t know what happened in the town,” the younger man began. “But… I want you to know that I’m happy you’re safe and alive. I worried that you were dead, when I first got sight of Jack. It was an ugly feeling.”

Flattered, Hannibal stood and set his hand on Will’s shoulder comfortably, pulled him forward into another one of their hugs that drowned out the world entirely and left them at its focus. And this time they weren’t interrupted, so their arms remained enfolded around the other tightly for several minutes. Then they parted and returned to the warehouse, a _tsss_ from Will beckoning his mutts. Hannibal fought the smile that wanted to take over his features, wiping his face blank of expression when they walked through the open door together, hands brushing for just a second.


	18. Call Me a Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ _Everything_ is a risk anyway, so beating around the bush is senseless,” Brian snapped.
> 
> The man looked pissed off, exhausted, and wound tight with too much negative energy. Will looked at him, took him in, and had to reluctantly agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!!! There will be another chapter up tomorrow in return, and also to celebrate meeting my follower goal on Tumblr. Thank you to everyone, for following me and for kudos and comments and just --YOU'RE THE BEST EVER ♥
> 
> Not beta read!

Day 11

The door remained open to air out the warehouse and to lend those within a few rays of warm sunlight. It was still dark in the tall steel building, doubly so with the fluorescents hanging dead from the ceiling, but they made due despite the indefinite power outage. The lantern sat in the center of the semi-circle of people, flicked off for now -Jack had demanded earlier that they would wait until the batteries died completely before replacing them from their small supply. No one argued, as it was something to listen to, something to do or not do as they waited out the day murmuring amongst themselves. Questions lingered in the air.

Beverly and Jimmy, huddled together, asking ‘what now?’ Brian pacing near the entrance of the warehouse and scrubbing his hands over his head, expletives under his breath as he asked aloud ‘where now?’ And Bella, ever graceful, trading quiet words with Jack that Hannibal could hear clearly, the woman’s voice hoarse but intelligible.

_’Who now?’_

Who now indeed.

Hannibal had a lot of ideas about the who and the what and the where, and even the when. He sat next to Will silently as his friend brushed his fingers through Shelly’s fur, the long-haired brown, black and white dog sprawling across his lap comfortably, tail thumping on the floor. The rest of his pack lounged nearby, Buster curled in a stripe of light and content for the time being. The good doctor watched Will’s fingers out of the corner of his eyes, entertaining a curious desire for them to be brushing into his own hair instead, as they curled together in a bed, in Wolf Trap or anywhere but here in this dingy place with other people.

It would be a lie to say he didn’t appreciate the camaraderie of the rest of the group, as he did agree that more numbers tipped the odds in their favor. But it would also be a lie to say he didn’t want to take Will from here so that they may find their way together in this new world.

Feeling a heaviness settle on him, Hannibal tilted his head imperceptibly. Jack, he knew, looked across the room at him, and what the doctor wouldn’t give to know what the big man was thinking. The remnants of his nearly broken nose infused Hannibal with satisfaction, because despite letting the hit land, _he_ had won in the end -and still he continued to win. Every Time Will chose him, be it to sit next to him, to look to him for anything, to sleep by him and feel safe…

Each moment was a victory for Hannibal.

“What are you smiling about?” Will asked.

“I wasn’t aware that I was,” Hannibal answered, turning fully in his friend’s direction and dismissing Jack entirely.

“Liar,” a light tone, curiosity lingering.

Hannibal chuckled quietly, and watched Shelly’s ears perk towards the sound. Charmed, the doctor reached across Will’s lap to stroke the soft fur, victorious with how quickly the canine eased into his touch as well. He felt Will’s gaze, and he could almost taste the question in the air between them.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked before Will could speak.

“Avoiding the question, I see,” the young man leaned back further against the wall, head coming to rest on cold steel. “Me? I’m thinking about a nice, warm bath. I feel like I’m carrying enough dirt on me to fill two dump trucks.”

Wincing, Hannibal had to agree, as he felt the same, and it did indeed take a lot of willpower to _not_ think about it. Or to dismiss the sour smell of sweat from the both of them.

“I had no answer to your question,” Hannibal remarked with another chuckle. “Nothing concrete, as it were. Honestly, I was marveling at our continuing existence.”

“Heh. Yah, it still feels like a dream with no ending sometimes.”

“Not a nightmare?”

Will glanced up at Hannibal with a quirk to his lips. His friend’s jawline grew scruffier every day, his beard filling out and not a grey hair in sight. Hannibal’s own face was scratchy with growing follicles, and he longed to take the edge of his knife to it. Perhaps later.

“If it were a nightmare, I wouldn’t have you at my side, Hannibal,” Will murmured after several long moments of mutual, comfortable silence.

Another victory.

****

That evening, the lantern sat in the middle of them, dim as the battery’s juices depleted. The door had been sealed, a thick metal bar slotted in the handles on the inside. For the last half an hour, they had been brainstorming, cooking up a plan for what to do now. They couldn’t remain out here in the unforgiving countryside, and their supplies were few. A can of cold Spaghettios was passed around.

Will shook his head as the food made it to him, passing it to Hannibal, whose nose visibly twitched at the contents within. He took a single mouthful and then actually _shuddered_ , before passing the food onto Melly. The blond woman hadn’t spoken a word to anyone in many hours -in fact Will was certain the last time he’d heard her had been outside at the picnic table. From her, an aura of resignation mingled with anger, leaving her curled tight over her stomach, head down. She accepted the food, took a single bite, and then slid the can back to Jack and Bella.

“Shouldn’t we go into that town?” Jimmy said, drawing Will’s attention.

“Even after Gordy?” the young man countered. “It’s not safe. It still isn’t.”

“We could all go?” Beverly suggested from where she lay on her stomach, head perched in one hand, face haggard. “With more of us to cover ground, we could search for some food and stuff. Watch each other’s back.”

“It sounds doable,” Jack agreed. “Will, I trust you, man, but we can’t stay here. If it involves a risk, we have to take it.”

“ _Everything_ is a risk anyway, so beating around the bush is senseless,” Brian snapped.

The man looked pissed off, exhausted, and wound tight with too much negative energy. Will looked at him, took him in, and had to reluctantly agree. He needed more dog food, and maybe they would be fine. Maybe, maybe, maybe. His stomach still clenched tight, dread renewed despite Jack and Hannibal’s safe return. 

“Yeah. Tomorrow morning, we should go,” Will said. “Together. But you all need to be on your guard, okay? Don’t let it slip for a second.”

No one said anything in response, and Will wasn’t sure whether it was because they thought him mad or because they knew he wasn’t. Most of them had worked with Will long enough to trust his words, but in these circumstances Brian had the correct idea. 

“I don’t like it at all,” Will said to Hannibal later, words whispered between them as they lay facing each other. 

“I will ensure your safety,” Hannibal said.

Will shut his eyes tight, took in a deep breath, and then sighed it out. He opened his eyes and peered into the darkness at Hannibal’s shadowed features. Unsure, he reached out and set his palm against the other man’s face, thumb stroking once along a sharp cheekbone.

“And I’ll ensure yours,” Will decided.

Hannibal exhaled audibly, and then reached out his own arms to wrap around Will to draw him close, one slipping beneath the younger man’s head, and the other gripping tight to a trim waist. Will’s breath stalled at their proximity as his cheek came to rest on a strong shoulder, and as Hannibal’s nose nuzzled into his hairline. He hesitated only a second before returning the gesture and wrapped his friend up tight and close and warm.

“Promise me,” Will voiced into Hannibal’s neck.

“I promise you,” Hannibal immediately said.

Will pressed a quick, chaste kiss into the hot skin before him, pulling away faster than the action had occurred and then settling tiredly, eyes shut as he drifted into sleep.

****

Hannibal remained awake long into the night. Will slept against him, and he could feel his friend’s chest as he inhaled and exhaled easily. The echoing heat from the brushing of lips up on his neck had Hannibal’s heart racing uncontrollably, and no matter what he did, there was nothing for it. Eventually he gave in and entertained tilting Will’s face upwards to cover those pink lips with his own, wake him with damp insistence. His friend slumbered so peacefully, however, features arranged loosely, looking younger than his years despite the growing mass of facial hair.

The lantern puttered out not long after they all settled in to rest in preparation for the next morning, when they would move on. When finally Hannibal felt his heart calm its rhythm, it wasn’t to sleep, though. He gently untangled himself from Will’s hot embrace, stood, and then walked soundlessly further into the warehouse’s blackness. He found Melly in a backroom smoking a cigarette, the cherry burning at the end the only light offered to them.

“I shot him,” Hannibal said softly. “I watched the life leave his eyes.”

Melly said nothing. She exhaled a puff of smoke into the black air.

“I believe the terms of our agreement are now met,” Hannibal continued. “On my part, that is.”

More silence. Then the woman tossed the cigarette onto the ground and crushed it beneath her boot.

“Fine,” she whispered. “One hour from now.”

“Thirty minutes,” the doctor argued.

A sniff, and then a shift in the air as Melly turned away.

“Fine,” she said again.

****

Will’s heart seized as he woke to pandemonium. His dogs were barking rapidly, growling and snapping and whining, and frightened shouts filled the air. It felt familiar, like that night at the gas station, only this time it was absolutely different. Fire raged, lighting up the warehouse unlike before.

“Hannibal?!” he shouted.

His friend burst around a corner from the back, eyes wide.

“I tried to put it out,” Hannibal said hurriedly, arms reaching for Will’s shoulders to ground him.

“What’s going on? Guys, calm down,” Will shouted frantically, and he tried to calm his dogs, tried to calm himself, _tried_.

Beverly screamed, diving out of the way as an explosion sounded and debris careened towards the group. Jack’s voice attempted to raise above the chaos, but it was no use. Will’s heart skipped every other beat, and sweat soaked his hair and face and neck. The fire licked and crawled ever closer, but the door-

_The door wouldn’t open._

They were trapped: they were fucking trapped in a steel warehouse as the fire blazed.

Will grasped the sides of his head as Hannibal pulled him close and whispered to him endlessly. He couldn’t understand a single word, and his throat felt constricted as smoke filled every corner.

“You promised,” Will said. “Hannibal, you promised!”

“Will, calm down,” the doctor said.

He sounded calm himself, and Will couldn’t stand it. Tears sprung to his eyes and he began to shake violently, and then he couldn’t breath at all anymore and his eyes rolled up into his head as he collapsed.

“Will!” a voice echoed in his head obscenely loudly.

But Will couldn’t answer.

****

When he woke, he lay in a bed, the mattress firm and the blankets covering him scratchy. Gentle light filled the room, and a warm weight lay upon his legs. Will blinked and looked down at Winston, who raised his head and perked an ear at him curiously.

“You’re awake,” a voice said, hoarse.

Will looked to his right and found Hannibal hunched over in a chair, hair hanging into his eyes and covering much of his face. His shoulders were stiff and his knuckles were white where he clenched the arms of the chair.

“Where are we? What happened?” the young man asked, confusion filling him to the brim. “Hannibal -Hannibal are you okay?”

Hannibal Lecter looked up, and Will’s blood ran cold.

Half of the man’s face had been burned severely, the skin blistered and raw. A slash ran into his left eye, from cheekbone to brow. His eyebrows had been singed away. Will tried to remember what had happened, tried to make sense of where they were. 

“Hannibal…?”

“Rest, Will,” the doctor said. “I will be fine. I’ve kept my promise once more. To all of you.”

Lungs straining from lack of breath, Will looked around and found that all of his pack lay close, safe and sound. 

“What happened?” he tried again, voice faltering.

“Rest.”


	19. Deluge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal looked down at him with that same smile, only his remaining teeth were black and broken and his lips were partially rotted away. His regal nose had been torn off, leaving behind a mess of cartilage and dried blood. One eye socket was empty, and patches of hair stuck out of his mostly bald head. Hannibal’s one eye stared at him white and without pupil, and his breath hissed out of the corner of his mouth that wasn’t missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize I didn't actually end up answering any questions really... WOOPS. Things are proceeding a bit slower than I initially planned but that's okay hopefully! Bear with me ♥ Next chapter should be out pretty fast too, hopefully!
> 
> Not beta read!

Day 12- Unknown

“Is everyone okay?” Jack Crawford’s voice boomed before he dissolved into a violent coughing fit.

Beverly knelt on the ground next to Jimmy, their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. Brian stumbled into them and collapsed with his own coughing fit, and then he held onto both of his friends while his body shook in shock.

“We’re good,” he hissed out. “Mostly.”

“I’m okay,” Bella sat on her knees on the cold pavement of the warehouse parking lot, looking stunned despite her answer.

Jack collapsed next to her and embraced her tightly.

Their clothes were singed, and one of Jack’s forearms had been burnt quite bad. But they were safe and alive, far from the burning warehouse in dawn’s early light.

“Where’s Will?” Beverly asked suddenly. “And Hannibal?”

They looked around as they caught their breath. The men in question were nowhere in sight. Neither was Melly.

****

When Will woke again, the room rang with silence. He felt weak and dry, throat parched and limbs stiff. It hurt to move, hurt to sit up and turn his body to put his feet on the scratchy rug that covered the floor, and when he stood, he shook visibly. Sweat soaked his brow and his hair and ran down the back of his neck in a cold drip. Nothing in his immediate surroundings looked familiar, but to his left a door stood ajar, offering him a glimpse of tile -and it was then that he realized the lamp next to the bed threw off a dim light, and that the softest refrain of music could be heard in the distance.

_What the fuck?_

He stumbled to the bathroom first, and tried the tap, groaning loudly when cold water gushed out. His present location became the least important thing in wake of this, and he bent at the waist to stick his face under the flow to gulp at the liquid greedily. When he’d had his fill, he stood and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, and then stared at himself in the mirror in confusion.

 _Jesus,_ was the only word he could think, because his face had been shaven, his boyish features revealed and the line of his jaw smooth.

Will walked unsteadily out of the bathroom and opened another door to find an empty closet, and then opened the last to find a cold hallway. He proceeded to follow the music until he found himself in the kitchen, where a pan sizzled on the stovetop. Hannibal stood before it with a metal spatula, stirring the contents once in awhile as he listened to quiet, classical music.

“Hannibal?”

The man turned to him with a smile, wearing a fresh white shirt, his own face bare and appearing smooth. His hair had been smoothed back in its customary style, and good humor lit up his brown eyes.

“Will, I’m glad you’re awake,” he said. “The dogs are in the backyard.”

“What? Where are we?” blue eyes widened as a memory of the man surfaced, blackening and raw, blistered skin and a deep gash across one eye -but before him Hannibal stood without injury, other than the bruising across his nose and the still healing cut on his forehead.

“Safe,” the man answered, and then, “What do you remember?”

“The fire back at the warehouse, and you -you were injured pretty bad. I mean,” Will trailed off uncertainly.

“I have a rather nasty burn on my back,” Hannibal continued. “But I’ve seen to my injuries. We are safe and alive, however. Is that not enough?”

Will wanted to say _yes_ , and he almost opened his mouth to voice the word, and instead shut it with a click of teeth. Nothing here made any sense to him.

“The others?”

Silence for a long time as Hannibal stirred the food in the pan.

“I’m unsure,” the doctor said. “I hope that they managed to get out as well.”

“Hope? You di- what?” Will sat at the single threadbare stool at the island counter separating him from Hannibal. “Hannibal, _where are we?_ ”

Dreaming. He must be -right?

“A house removed from the town,” his friend spoke at length. “Far removed.”

“But how?” Will couldn’t help the almost desperate tone that bled into his voice. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“The truck. I am ashamed to admit I panicked, Will. You fainted within the warehouse after inhaling far too much smoke.”

“So you just shove us in the truck and drive away? Just leave everyone behind?”

“Will, I told you. I panicked. I’m so-”

“Don’t fucking tell me you’re sorry. Fuck.”

One glance around the kitchen showed that it was tiny but tidy. A painting hung on the wall next to a boarded-up window, depicting a generic display of flowers. Staring at it, it was then that Will inhaled the smell of spicy, delicious meat as it cooked within the pan.

“I’m sorry,” the young man said eventually, voice softened. “I’m just- I’m confused, Hannibal.”

“Understandable,” the older man said. “Will, I truly am sorry. I just wanted to keep you safe.”

The words washed over Will and soothed him slightly. However, there was still too much confusion clouding his mind. It was surreal, to be sitting in this kitchen, in little clean house with a bed and a backyard. He began to question again whether it was a dream, and eventually accepted that the first time he woke and saw his friend hunched over in the chair - _that_ must have been the dream, and this the reality. He scrubbed his hands back through his hair and felt the sweat soaking him even still despite the chill running up and down his spine.

****

_The man grunted as he stumbled into a shelf and knocked several bottles astray. He cursed at the sound of breaking glass, and then squinted through the haze of pain out of one watering eye._

_Outside, monsters hissed and moaned and stumbled repeatedly into the door of the pharmacy, waiting._

****

Will moaned around the first bite of spiced, slightly salted pork. Nothing else sat on his plate other than the slab of cooked meat. He ignored his shaking limbs and sweating forehead and devoured the meal, and continued to accept more when Hannibal offered it with a smile that never left his lips. Questions fading, the young man filled his belly and then sat back with a sigh.

“What about you?” he asked his friend.

“I’ve already eaten,” Hannibal inclined his head with that same smile. “Would you like to sit outside? There is a very large, secure fence. It is safe.” 

The fence reached eight feet, and it was made of thick wood. The yard stretched bigger than Will expected, grass short and dried and patches of dirt dotted throughout. His dogs snuffled around or ran in excited circles, and Chester pattered up to him excitedly, his hindquarters quivering with how forcefully his tail wagged. Will bent to automatically pet the canine, whose tongue loled out of his mouth.

“They _are_ safe,” Will said curiously. 

“Yes,” Hannibal agreed. “ _We all are._ ”

****

_He found what he needed and snuck out the back, holding in the pained gasps that fought to get out. It took a very long time for him to return to the cottage, his steps faltering much like the creatures that fell apart in front of the pharmacy._

_The shaking figure huddled in the tiny bed remained unconscious, and the animals that gathered around him protectively held vigil._

_He sat down and wheezed hoarsely, closing his eye and passing out cold from pain and overexertion. The paper bag of meds sat in his lap, clasped loosely._

****

“I feel like we’re back in Wolf Trap,” Will ventured as they sat on the back step. 

“Safe and similar surroundings,” his friend said. “I am very glad that you are with me, Will.”

A strong arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him close, and Will smiled and turned to bury his face into a warm neck. He didn’t even care that he felt nauseous and that his sweat-damp hair would probably stain his friend’s thin white shirt. Honestly, all that mattered to him in that moment was that they were indeed safe. 

“This is nice,” he sighed. “Can we just stay here forever?”

He looked up to smile at his dear friend, but instead his heart stopped beating. Hannibal looked down at him with that same smile, only his remaining teeth were black and broken and his lips were partially rotted away. His regal nose had been torn off, leaving behind a mess of cartilage and dried blood. One eye socket was empty, and patches of hair stuck out of his mostly bald head. Hannibal’s one eye stared at him white and without pupil, and his breath hissed out of the corner of his mouth that wasn’t missing.

Will tore his gaze away and found that he was in hell, and that the devil embraced him tighter than a steel wrench, with clawed fingers digging now into his own soft and vulnerable skin.

“Will!” a voice shouted so loud that Will covered his ears.

The world shook violently, and Will screamed as black claws dug deeper and his body was systematically crushed.

“ _Will_!”

And then he woke up, finally. He stared into Hannibal’s uninjured eye, the brown iris bright and alive, the pupil dilated. The man sat at the edge of the bed, hair dirty and falling over his forehead, and his strong arms held Will up and against his thick chest. 

“Hannibal?” Will shrieked.

“Will,” he gasped.

Too many questions clogged the younger man’s brain, so many that he floundered like a fish on dry land. He set one hand on the side of Hannibal’s face that wasn’t a mess of rawness, and the other tangled in the man’s burnt shirt. His friend didn’t look away, pulled him closer, and Will sobbed before he shifted his fingers from cheek to hair, grasped the strands tightly and pressed Hannibal forward into a breathless, desperate kiss. The doctor grunted and then tightened his own grip, laved his tongue over Will’s dry lips to wet them, and then he pushed the muscle passed straight teeth to lick into the younger man’s mouth. Pain went ignored on both of the men’s part, and air gusted out of their flared nostrils as they kissed each other as if their lives depended on it.

When they parted Hannibal panted lightly, and Will’s cheeks heated more than they already had been. He framed one side of the doctor’s face once more and gasped out a single wet laugh.

“You’re alive,” Will murmured in awe.

“Oh, Will.”

They lay together in the bed, Hannibal above the blankets and Will beneath, arms entwined around shaking bodies. Panicked questions and uncertainty fell by the wayside, and they both focused on each other, on their tentative safety and the real, total truth of their mutual aliveness. The room had darkened, and a clock on the wall ticked into the silence and lulled them both in a dreamless sleep, each of them protected now by the dogs curled on and around the bed.

****

Hannibal woke before Will did this time, but he didn’t leave the bed. His body, wrecked and stressed beyond his limit, screamed at him, and in response he held onto the man at his side even tighter. His burnt and injured face throbbed and stung and required medical attention, and yet he stayed there on the small bed and looked at Will Graham and saw the world in his features relaxed in repose. The doctor stroked his hand along a bearded cheek and remembered the coarse hairs scratching his lips as they shared a kiss earlier. His heart raced and that thing deep inside of him, coaxed out by Will existence and attention and continued survival, overcame him and bloomed into an emotion akin to-

“Oh, Will,” he said again, whispering the endearment worshipfully. “My dear, lovely boy.

-love.

Hannibal shut his eye once more and drifted back into a peaceful slumber, because nothing mattered, really: not the pain, not the uncertainty of their future, not the monsters outside that had followed him home.

Nothing other than Will Graham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the rapid scene changes!!! I wanted to prevent as much confusion as possible xD
> 
> Also, forgive me for the very misleading, evil summary :D
> 
> I love you all ♥


	20. When the Violence Causes Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teeth snapped up at him, and uncoordinated fingers grabbed at his sides to rip at his clothes. Will sobbed, terrified and disgusted beyond belief, and held the zombie’s dangerous mouth away as much as he could, his own head craned away to avoid the thing’s breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: I struggled to finish this chapter since I've got the nastiest cold/bordering on flu, so there wont be an update for a little while (not like...insanely long of course<33) I just have no energy to write and am focusing on getting better. Much love ♥
> 
> I FEEL EVIL FOR THE LAST TWO SUMMARIES....but they are rather fitting -- AND MYSTERIOUS (if misleading keke) I'm sorry, please forgive me!!!! ♥♥♥
> 
> I want to say thank you to everyone for the kudos', the comments, or just for reading! I'm beyond happy to read and respond to each and every one of you, and I'm even happier to have you along for this zombieific journey! :D Also, thank you so much for the encouragement ♥ And for the patience haha~ ♥♥♥
> 
> Not beta read!

Day Unknown

Like in his fever dream, the house that Will woke up in wasn’t very large. The bedroom hadn’t been kept in a very long time, with dust visibly displaced where they had walked. Cobwebs hung low in the corners, and the single window on his left had a grimy film clinging to it. Laying on his back, head on a stiff pillow that smelled of mildew, Will had a lot of feelings about his present situation, and all of them came down to the man next to him, who breathed heavily. He turned to face Hannibal, and the doctor didn’t stir.

“Hannibal?” he whispered.

His voice sounded too loud in the air, echoing in the bedroom, which was dimly lit by the sun outside. Again, Hannibal didn’t respond; he lay partially on his side with his head arranged mostly on Will’s pillow, with his face carefully facing the ceiling to avoid rubbing the raw flesh on the fabric. It looked awful, and Will held his breath as he finally sat up and made to get out of bed. 

“Will?” Hannibal wheezed, and that was enough for the young man to snap his gaze onto his friend, worried.

Hannibal’s uninjured eye cracked open and glistened at him. He looked awful, smelled like burning hair, and when Will moved closer, the scent of fever was sour in his nose.

“The bag,” the man in bed said hoarsely. “Please get it. It fell on the ground.”

He sounded as if a gust of wind could blow him away, voice quivering and accent strong. His voice faded into words that Will couldn’t understand as he circled the bed unsteadily and retrieved the paper bag on the ground.  
“Come here,” Hannibal muttered. “Sit.”

Will sat on the edge of the bed and shivered despite the sweat soaking him. Hannibal shifted with a groan of pain until he half-faced Will, weakly raising a hand and reaching towards the bag.

“I need you to take two of the white pills,” Hannibal said. “Then I want you to sleep.”

“What about you?” Will asked as he took out the rather large pill bottle with white chalk capsules within.

“Do not worry about me, Will. I will join you in sleep and then see to my injuries when I’m less-”

The older man heaved and then began to cough loudly and violently, curling in on himself with his hair clinging wetly to his forehead. Will dropped the bottle and the bag, didn’t care where they went, and leaned forward to embrace what he could of his friend. He felt so delirious, as if the world was constantly shifting on its axis, but Hannibal remained still and easy to focus on, and so Will clung to him like an anchor to the ocean floor.

“Will, do what I said. Please.”

Such a small voice, so alien coming from this man. Will wanted to stay there and hold him until they both either perished or pulled through -together. But he pulled back and dry swallowed two of the pills from the bottle, which he grabbed from where it had rolled down between them on the mattress. Then he curled back up on the edge of the bed and lay his head very gently on Hannibal’s chest when the man moved to lay on his back with a wince. 

They drifted back into slumber together, not noticing or hearing the incessant scratching at the front door, nor the low whine emitting from Winston, standing at the entrance of the room with tail and ears twitching in concern.

****

The incessant banging woke Hannibal up, although he could barely open his eye.

He knew his wound would be infected soon if not already, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even shift his head to look at Will, whose breath puffed against his cheek every once in awhile. Faint and shallow.

They both had fevers now, and between the two of them, the doctor imagined that they could light another fire, burn up into ashes as they lay in this bed. When he imaged his death, it hadn’t been like this. Never like this --with Will joining him, if he’d taken the pills too late. Death didn’t cause fear within in him like it did others, not even at the hand of the zombies, the monsters with their unseeing eyes and endless hunger.

But Will dying? Unacceptable.

Hannibal used every remaining ounce of his willpower and climbed out of the bed in stiff, jolting movements, nearly going down on his knees when his sore feet tangled in the blankets. He knew he wouldn’t have a lot of time to see to his injuries, but he had to if he were going to fight the infection and live to protect his most important person. Despite the drastically different setting, this was beginning to remind him of another time when he had been helpless and restrained by weakness. A very dark time buried deep within the recesses of his mind palace, the place where he went to walk across pristine halls adorned with memories. He’d stay in this palace while he recovered, but only after he made sure that he _would_ recover.

****

Will woke with a start and coughed until his throat hurt, barely able to see with the sweat dripping down into his eyes in an unwanted torrent. He barely had the time to notice Winston whining at him, the dog having jumped onto the bed to gently nudge at his side with a nervous paw, when he realized that he lay in the bed alone. Through the heat of his fever, Will went cold, and he shot to his feet too fast to catch himself, considering how weak his legs were. He landed on his hands and knees, panting heavily, and then crumpled onto the dusty floor with his cheek pressed on cold hardwood.

Then his pack went wild, running collectively out of the tiny bedroom, nails clicking and hackles raised. 

“Hannibal?” He called out as loudly as he could.

Nothing but barking and whines from the smaller dogs, high pitched and in distress. It took the young man a long time to get back onto his knees, and even more to lift himself to his feet using the bed as an aid. He stumbled over his own feet and out into the short hallway that lead into the kitchen, and there, peering around the remains of the broken, already flimsy door, were monstrous white eyes and rotted, blood-stained teeth that clicked excitedly at the smell of flesh. They appeared to completely disregard the animals snapping at them and trying to herd them away, and the first one pushed through the door and staggered with outstretched arms for the shocked figure of Will Graham.

He needed a weapon, and instead he stood there, watching the thing approach as if his focus had been forcibly narrowed in on it. The air filled with the sweet smell of decay, and another one shoved its way inside as time inched by. _He really needed a weapon._

A monstrous roar filled his ears, snapping him back into a reality that wasn’t his impending death. He turned in time to see Hannibal barreling out of the hallway behind him, gauze on his cheek and covering his eye. He held a piece of broken wood, the leg of a table it appeared to be, and he moved with animalistic power to intercept the zombie. Blood spattered across the faded counter nearby, and gore stuck to the end of the stick after the doctor had destroyed the thing’s face. He turned to the second zombie, and the third, and the _fourth_ , and systematically disposed of them, leaving Will to shake in awe and fright at the teeth snapping at his friend.

Afterwards, Hannibal turned to Will, his weapon slipping from his fingers to fall onto the floor with a _plonk_. His one brown eye was hazed over, and he resembled one of the monsters he had just brutally annihilated. But he had lived and triumphed, and Will took a single step forward to support the man whose legs began to wobble and whose head loled back to look at the ceiling in an expression akin to despair.

And then he collapsed, and the fifth zombie made its appearance with a strangled hiss, falling upon Hannibal immediately with grasping fingers gripping the nearest fleshy, _alive_ limb.

“NO,” Will screamed with horror and instinctively dived forward to dislodge the thing, tackling it and holding it down with an arm pinning its throat onto the floor. 

Teeth snapped up at him, and uncoordinated fingers grabbed at his sides to rip at his clothes. Will sobbed, terrified and disgusted beyond belief, and held the zombie’s dangerous mouth away as much as he could, his own head craned away to avoid the thing’s breath. He had no weapon, didn’t know what to do, and then suddenly that didn’t matter, because the table leg smashed down into the center of the thing’s forehead in a stabbing motion much like a spear, and brain matter splattered onto the floor beneath them. 

_Hannibal_.

His friend and protector fell to his knees and then onto Will, crushing him with his weight. He was out cold, and so even heavier than he already was in comparison to Will, and the young man’s breath hitched as he tried futilely to avoid laying in the gore beneath him. Would it be a mercy for them both to die right now, exhausted beyond measure and each suffering a sickness of their own? Will already felt as if he were suffocating, as if it were his blood staining the floor. He shut his eyes tight as the last tendrils of waking faded, and then he joined Hannibal in darkness.

****

He hadn’t expected to find the cottage still standing. Years had passed him in a fugue state before the world ended, had worsened since, but in his dreams he always saw the patch of land in the woods where he used to live with his grandpa. He trudged through the underbrush towards the front door, and then paused when he noticed the uneven paths flattening the overgrown grass. Oh. The door hung off its hinges just barely, age-weakened wood splintered, and it squealed when he nudged it open. It would be easy to fix.

Inside, the zombies were dead. Actually dead. 

And, as if from some bizarre dream, a large pack of dogs surrounded him in a flurry of searching cold noses and waggling tails, coupled with inquiring whines and a single, warning bark from a big brown canine. He sniffed at the air, ignoring the animals, and knew it hadn’t been long since the zombies had been disposed of, and he ran a dirty finger into a splatter of blood and sniffed at that too. No way his grandpa had done that; the old man had resembled a skeleton with a thin stretch of skin the last time he’d seen his leathery face. 

A twitch.

There, two men barely alive, one crushed between the other and a zombie with no facial features to speak of. Dark curly hair and an untended beard was matted in blood and pieces of brain, and a messy hand, stretched outwards, twitched again. The other one hardly had a face to see even if blood didn’t cover it, and yet his back clearly moved up and down with labored breaths. The man sighed and decided the door could wait.

One glazed but vaguely piercing eye blinked at him in confusion when he lifted the bigger guy under the arms to drag him into the bedroom. In the depths of brown, he saw something that would have frightened him had he been able to understand. Instead, a simple man with a big heart, the stranger lay the injured figure onto the bed his grandpa had slept on. The other guy weighed similar to a feather, it seemed, and that journey didn’t last long -laid together on a mattress he knew to be uncomfortably stiff, the two men already looked dead. Curiously, the dogs followed him and surrounded the smaller of the two, jumping onto the bed or nuzzling worriedly at the hand that hung slightly off the edge of the mattress

He loosened the holster on his gun just in case, though -they could be infected.

“The door,” he muttered then, and he left them there to block the entrace with an antique bookshelf, having been unable to find any tools to hold a sheet of wood in place even had he possessed some.

He returned afterwards only when he’d found what he could to tend to their wounds, hoping he wasn’t too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there are still a lot of questions left unanswered regarding Melly and the other group and what happened at the warehouse! I'll get there, I promise<3


	21. Feverish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He turned his head and met a bright brown eye blinking up at him. In that safe gaze, Will found himself growing more steady, and less like a balloon attempting to float off into nothingness. He squeezed Hannibal’s hand tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I am starting to feel much better, now that my seasonal sickness is clearing out :) Missed you all!
> 
> Not beta read!

Day Unknown

Hannibal drifted into consciousness to the soothing coolness of a damp cloth being smoothed upon his forehead. By sound alone he could determine that there lingered at the bedside a stranger, scent unfamiliar and aura curiously difficult to make sense of. He kept his eyes shut as he explored as much of his surroundings as possible without giving away that he had awoken just yet. However, sometime during his exploration, he became aware of the sweaty fingers grasping his own, and Will’s feverish being quickly overcame Hannibal’s senses, and his own weakness dragged him back into a deep slumber.

When he woke next, he did so with a start, sitting up and leaning on his elbows. Will wasn’t in the bed next to him.

“He is just in the bathroom,” a voice said softly.

Snapping his face to the side, Hannibal took in the sight of a middle-aged man with a drooping hound face. His head was balding, and he wore stained jean overalls and a green plaid shirt underneath. He had pulled a wooden chair from the kitchen and set it near the bed. The doctor opened his mouth to question this new person, but with a creak, the bathroom door nearby swung open and Will slowly walked out, steadying himself on the wall. The young man was soaked, dark spots staining the front of his shirt around his neck and beneath his arms, and his curls were plastered to his head and face.

“Hannibal,” he slurred.

And then he collapsed, but before he could hit the ground, the man sitting nearby dove from the chair and caught Will under the arms. Hannibal, too weak to even swing his feet from the bed, snarled silently. He was unable to do anything to assist, and so he watched the man drag Will over and lay him down, arranging him on top of the blankets, and the second he stepped away, Hannibal wrapped his arms around the seemingly frail body. He didn’t have the energy to scold himself for acting so childishly, unable to truly feel ashamed of the irrational jealousy that sprouted just then, only knowing that it faded the second the man stepped away, leaving Hannibal to embrace his dear friend.

He did so fervently, and then fell back into a dreamless sleep of healing, _his_ Will clutched tight to his heart.

****

Will opened his eyes and gasped hoarsely. Around him, upon the mattress and on the floor, creatures with dark eyes peered at him, and they never turned away, even as his heart began to hammer in his chest. He tried to move, to run, to _get away_ , but realized belatedly that he was held tight in the vice grip of something so strong he couldn’t even shift his muscles. Nearby, a figure with a blurred face twitched in his direction, and a voice hit his ears like icepicks.

“Will?”

Was it coming from the thing over there, or the monster holding him fast? He couldn’t tell. Something burning hot touched his forehead, and he screamed -or at least he did inwardly. Nothing seemed to occur at a natural pace; everything moved sluggishly, and his vision grew unclear as if a deluge had fallen over everything. Was it raining in here?

“...he sick?” another high-pitched screaming voice.

The monsters were having a conversation. About him? Were they going to eat him?

Will struck out blindly, unsure what he managed to hit, only knowing that the grip around him loosened just enough to free himself. He staggered onto a ground that felt like ice, and out of the cave he’d awoken in surrounded by creatures without names. He heard tromping footsteps following him, and they were so loud that his brain rattled, and he lost his footing in a dark corner and curled up, sobbing.

_Everything was so fucking loud._

Hands on him now, gentle. Not claws or teeth or gurgling, growling and stinky breath coming out of a maw ready to devour him. Will’s eyes rolled up into his head, and he passed out in the arms of the man in the overalls, who carried him easily once more, back into the room and to the bed where the other awaited.

****

“Are you hungry?” the man asked, and Hannibal faced the stranger.

“Not particularly,” he answered weakly. “But I should eat regardless.”

“Yeah. I’ll make some soup. It’s good soup.”

Hannibal returned his gaze to the ceiling as the man left the room. Next to him, Will slumbered on, no further nightmares carrying him from the bed. The doctor’s shoulder still throbbed from earlier, when Will had partially woken up, dazed and frightened and violent. The sound that came out of him, a seemingly endless sob, haunted Hannibal even now, and he turned his face slowly to take in the crumpled form of his friend. It was a peculiar kind of betrayal that he felt, but not one that he let linger. He knew that Will would come back to him.

The man returned with a rusty metal tray and a can of soup with the lid pried off, a shiny spoon standing within the congealed mass. He set it all on the listing nightstand on Hannibal’s side of the bed, and then returned to his seat. 

“I don’t have a fire,” he said glumly. “To heat it. I’m sorry.”

Hannibal didn’t answer. He took up the tray after struggling into a partial sitting position, and forced down a few spoonfuls of the slimy broth. It claimed to be vegetable flavored, and certainly there were chunks of something in it. He swallowed the last bit that he could manage, muscles pulling at the burnt side of his face, and with a wince, he returned the tray to the dusty surface of the nightstand.

“It’s good soup,” the man claimed. “It’s my favorite.”

“It’s very good,” Hannibal assured the sad-faced man.

Darkness stirred within Hannibal, though it didn’t show on his face. He had done what he’d needed to, to assure that he and Will lived, and were together -alone together- once more. And now this man lingered, quite literally to the side, taking up the burden of caring for both sick and injured men, and despite the logical part that made up most of whom Hannibal was, the selfishness within him growled threateningly at the stranger’s presence, helpful or not. It insulted him, that he could possibly not handle caring for Will alone, and that indignance throbbed and grew inside of him the longer he lay in the bed.

“I fed the animals,” the man continued speaking just then, snapping Hannibal out of his musings. “They’re very friendly. Not very good guard dogs.”

“Food has a penchant for soothing the attitudes of many creatures,” Hannibal informed the other. “Not the ones outside, of course.”

“The zombies,” the stranger said needlessly. “They’re not nice at all.”

“I don’t expect they possess the ability to be anything other than a slave to their hunger,” the doctor said. “I won't claim to know much about them, but I’m rather certain there’s nothing left of them to offer.”

“My old lady told me they’re a manifestation of the devil,” sad eyes stared at Hannibal. “She was pretty darn confident that they all needed a stake to the heart. Turns out they just need a nice bonk on the head instead.”

“Indeed,” Hannibal wanted to close his eyes and sleep, curled up around Will so that he could feel him breathing and let that lull him into peacefulness.

He learned that the man’s name was Charles, and that he preferred to be called Charly with a ‘y’ only. This house belonged to a relative of his, and Charly figured that coming back would be his safest bet now that his old lady had bit the dust. It was a curious conversation, Hannibal had to admit. He grudgingly accepted that alone, he couldn’t handle their wounds. With Charly’s watchful eye, though, he could walk to the bathroom and check on his injuries, door still thrown wide open to keep Will in his sight, but resting easier knowing the younger man wouldn’t endanger himself as easily. 

Hannibal removed the gauze on his face and fought the urge to wince at the blackened, pus-filled mess that greeted him. He left his eye covered, and spent the next several minutes wiping away the sliminess on his face, and then a few painful seconds picking at the scabbing flesh with a hiss. The dead skin would have to be removed, but he hadn’t the energy quite yet to do so. He returned to the bed and lay on his back once more, shutting his eyes tight after reassuring himself that Will’s chest still moved and his heart still beat.

“Can you wake me when the sun starts to set?” he asked Charly, eyes closed.

“Okay, I can do that,” Charly’s voice had a tone to it that was both simple and friendly, and Hannibal considered what needed to be done as he drifted off into unconsciousness.

****

Will sat up in the small, stiff bed with a gasp. Winston, resting on his feet, raised his golden head and tilted it. Around him, his animals greeted his return to reality with gentle licks and the nudging of cold, wet noses. He wiped a hand shakily through his soaked hair, turning onto his side with a grunt and a gasp when his guts shifted unpleasantly. The urge to vomit grew so strong that he was certain he would lose any amount of food in his stomach, and then he _did_ , but instead of landing on the floor, a bucket was eased under his mouth just in the nick of time.

“Thanks,” Will gasped afterwards, looking up at the man in the overalls.

“You’re welcome,” the man set the bucket on the floor in case it would be needed once more -likely it would, and soon.

“Hannibal?” Will sat up and looked over his shoulder, and then relaxed.

The man slept peacefully on his back, head turned away to rest on the uninjured side. His unruly hair lay on the pillow and in his eyes, and his strong chest rose and fell as he breathed steadily. Will struggled to sit up, and then he leaned against the head of the bed, panting just from that small amount of exertion.

“I fed your dogs,” the man informed him. “They’re very nice dogs. I’m Charly, by the way. With a ‘y’ only.”

“I’m Will,” the young man blinked over at Charly. “Thanks. I’m pretty sick, I guess.”

Pretty sick probably didn’t even begin to cover it. Will shut his eyes and listened to his brain as it squealed endlessly. His ears rang, and sweat dripped off of his brow again and again. His entire body was tingling uncomfortably, and he felt as if he were drowning on the inside. 

“Is it day or night?” he asked, head lolling lazily in Charly’s direction.

“Almost night,” the man answered. “Are you hungry? There’s some soup left.”

“No,” Will moaned. “But thank you, Charly.”

“You’re welcome.”

_I must be dreaming_ , Will decided.

He opened one eye and squinted at Hannibal. The man was pale and appeared strangely frail. It wasn’t a word that Will would have ever imagined himself associating Hannibal with seriously, but there it was. Gauze still covered his face and eye, and he twitched once or twice in his sleep. His large hand nudged into Will’s side just then, and the younger man clutched it within his own, not having to look to find the long, grasping fingers. Strength existed in Hannibal’s grasp.

They were going to be okay.

“Will,” a familiar, accented voice pervaded Will’s drifting thoughts.

“Hannibal,” he answered the call with his own faint one.

He turned his head and met a bright brown eye blinking up at him. In that safe gaze, Will found himself growing more steady, and less like a balloon attempting to float off into nothingness. He squeezed Hannibal’s hand tightly.

“You’re okay,” Will said softly. “I’m not dreaming.”

“You’re not dreaming, dear Will. We’re going to be fine.”

Will fell asleep, and the last thing that he saw was Hannibal’s mouth cracking into a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about this chapter, I know nothing much happened, but our boys are pretty sick. We'll get back into the swing of things next chapter ♥ 
> 
> You'll learn about everything soon, I promise!! I know the story is sort of in limbo at the moment, but it'll pick up! :D And the others are not forgotten, I promise ♥


	22. Tranquility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue eyes squinted down at Hannibal’s pale, partially gauze-covered face, flitting between a single brown eye and where he knew there was a nasty burn injury. Quietly, Will crossed his legs, and then he started laughing. 
> 
> “You just made a _joke_ ,” he gasped. “And at your own expense? Wow, Doctor Lecter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some much needed fluff for our sick boys ♥ Once more, I know there's still many questions, they'll be seen to! Hugs for everyone!! (or cookies if you'd prefer ^_^)
> 
> Not beta read!

Day Unknown

When Hannibal woke up this time, he found Will sitting up in bed. He looked far more alert than he had been the last several days -or however long they lay here in limbo. Sweat still beaded his brow and dripped down his neck, and his blue eyes had a glossy quality to them, but he wasn’t shaking as he sat up straight, nor was his hand as swallowed two more pills.

“You’ve been taking them,” Hannibal noted quietly.

Will jumped, nearly dropping one of the white capsules, and Hannibal apologized gently. He remained where he was, far too exhausted still to venture sitting up. He gazed up at a scruffy, pale face, and saw life, and that was enough to suffuse him with victory even as he lay in near defeat.

“Every day,” the young man said after he swallowed the pills down. “Or, for as long as we’ve been here. I don’t honestly know anymore.”

“Nor I,” the doctor confessed. “I have been rather, ah, ‘burnt out’, I must admit.”

Blue eyes squinted down at Hannibal’s pale, partially gauze-covered face, flitting between a single brown eye and where he knew there was a nasty burn injury. Quietly, Will crossed his legs, and then he started laughing. 

“You just made a _joke_ ,” he gasped. “And at your own expense? Wow, Doctor Lecter.”

“It made you smile, so I believe it was worth it,” Hannibal spoke freely, not an occurrence that came about frequently, and it filled the older man with a joy that he had no words for.  
For Will did smile, wide and genuine through his laughter, and then at his friend’s comment, his lips softened into something far more intimate. Will leaned closer and cupped his hand against Hannibal’s uninjured cheek.

“You did,” he said with a gentle sigh.

Hannibal’s chest hurt now. Something yet nameless uncurled once more and spread its wings wide, raising its head from a dark place where it had once been chained. The tenderness of Will’s soft hand, coupled with the expression on his roughened face, soothed the hurts on Hannibal’s body more than anything else could or would. He reached up and clasped his own hand along Will’s jaw line and stroked his thumb near the corner of his mouth.

Something crashed loudly from the other room suddenly, and Will tore away to get to his feet unsteadily. Hannibal scented the air, looking for the familiar sweet smell of decay, and instead he picked up on a familiar stench. A pile of dogs rounded the corner seconds later, tails raised, claws clicking on the dirty floor. Will sat back down with a sigh, and then they both looked up as Charly entered the room.

“Your dogs are very nice,” he said with a small smile on his perpetually sad face. “They stay close, too. It was easy to let them out to pee.”

“Yeah, they’re a good pack,” Will smiled at Charly easily. “Thank you for taking them out, Charly.”

“You’re welcome,” the man ducked his head and then stood uncertainly. “Are you hungry?”

He offered them more soup, but both men declined politely. Charly shrugged and then left the room to putter around in the dusty kitchen, leaving the men alone once more. Will, having noticed belatedly that their own bags sat in one corner, walked across the cold floor unsteadily and then dug around to retrieve a granola bar for them both.

“We’ve got some beans, and these,” Will wagged the cereal bars in the air. “Not a whole lot. I feel bad eating Charly’s soup. He probably doesn’t have much of it.”

“Or perhaps he has quite a lot,” Hannibal accepted one of the bars. “I thought we had much more in that bag, though.”

“We probably did, but it looks like someone went through it at some point,” Will shook his head in disappointment. “Maybe when you were in town. I wasn’t very focused, unfortunately.”

“You were worried about my safety,” the doctor stated -and inwardly he preened. “You aren’t to blame.”

Will shrugged uncertainly and peeled open his snack bar. He took two bites before setting it aside, and then he maneuvered himself beneath the blankets and lay facing his friend. Hannibal didn’t bother eating the dry food, deciding that his body could handle another few hours without proper sustenance. Truthfully his stomach still roiled from the gelatinous soup. He longed to return to his home and his kitchen, before this mess happened, and he was shocked at how fervently the wish jolted through his body. Hannibal wasn’t used to wishful thinking or daydreaming. He cut the homesickness off before it could grow into something more, and he turned his face in Will’s direction as much as he could manage.

“Can I- can I move closer?” Will asked haltingly. “I mean--”

Hannibal smiled and moved his arm, and he shut his eye when Will nestled close, his sweat-damp curls coming to rest on his shoulder, scruffy face nuzzling into his chest. They were both filthy and smelled of sickness and fever, and yet this moment and the ones before were of the essence of Hannibal’s most treasured ones. He kept his eye shut and embraced Will close with his arm.

“Sleep,” he said, to himself and to the young man resting upon him.

They slept.

****

Charly woke them hours later with soup, only this time it was divided into two chipped bowls that were nonetheless cleaned. Somehow, likely with a fire in the old hearth off of the kitchen, he’d heated the food, and the smell filled their senses pleasantly. Will sat up and accepted one bowl and a small spoon with a plastic coating at the end. Hannibal pulled himself up with more strength than he’d had in quite a while, and he sniffed at the soup appreciatively.

“Thanks, Charly, this smells great,” Will said. “Did you have some?”

“Yes, and you’re welcome,” Charly scratched the back of his head. “I’m sorry there’s no crackers. I couldn’t find any.”

“Don’t be sorry, Charly,” Hannibal said. “This is excellent.”

It was. Will attempted to eat the vegetable soup slowly, knowing that his stomach hadn’t had a true meal in a while, but in the end he ate ravenously, and when he finished it, he chased it all down with the remnants of his granola bar. Hannibal finished eating a few moments later, and he wiped his hand politely across his mouth.

“Want some water?” Charly asked from where he lingered at the door.

He brought them mugs of water, still warm, and Will wondered if he’d boiled it, and furthermore if he had a supply somewhere. A well, perhaps. Old houses like these generally did, but he couldn’t imagine it being filled unless Charly had carried buckets from a larger source. He stopped wondering and chugged the water down, and then curled up under the blankets once more, shivering. Will hadn’t a clue what was wrong with him, or what the pills were for. When he’d bothered to read the label, the words had been foreign, and it wasn’t like he could google it. 

All that Will knew was that his body fought an infection of some sort, and a bad one at that. He felt simultaneously on fire and encased in ice, and when he closed his eyes, he could almost be certain that he floated in shallow pool of water. 

“You know what’s wrong with me, right?” Will asked Hannibal after the doctor had settled down once more as well. 

“I do,” a brown eye blinked sleepily at him. 

“I’ll be okay, then?”

Hannibal pulled him close once more and stroked a hand through his damp hair.

“You will,” he whispered. “I promise.”

****

Hannibal tucked the blankets around Will after leaving the bed. He presumed that it was now the next day, and a peek out of the dirtied window confirmed that sunlight did indeed blanket the outside world. Whether evening approached or morning had just begun, it didn’t matter very much in this secluded place. The doctor cast one glance at his slumbering companion, and at his protective pack, before he walked into the bathroom. 

Over the next hour or so, he peeled back the gauze and then worked on removing the layer of burnt flesh. It came away easily, but it stung something awful; Hannibal winced through the ordeal and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and his eye watered at the pain consuming him. Eventually, however, the layer of red, raw flesh glistening in the dim light coming in from the bedroom, was revealed. The injury didn’t worry him as much as it initially had, when the searing metal had pressed into his face back at the warehouse.

And, Hannibal discovered, his eye fared much better than he’d assumed.

When he removed the gauze and disposed of it, he could open the eye very slightly. In seconds, he determined that the slash had been superficial, affecting only the eyelid and not the eye itself. He searched in his satchel, and during the next several minutes he saw to his injuries and rolled out a fresh section of gauze to tape over it. Afterwards, he returned to the bedroom, and then froze. The bed sat small and old and empty, and he snarled silently, angered that he hadn’t heard a thing. 

He grabbed the knife that he’d hidden under the mattress, and then he left the bedroom altogether.

****

“It’s a really nice spot,” Will smiled and sat on the step outside next to Charly.

“It was my grandpa’s place. I grew up here, but I left when I was old enough. He wasn’t a very nice man.”

Will stretched his feet out and leaned against a chipped wooden pillar nearby. The sun beat down through the trees surrounding the place, and shone on the wild, tall grass. A light breeze teased through his hair, and he shut his eyes contentedly. The day was young, and it felt amazing to be out of that stuffy room. He didn’t have much strength to draw on, but making his unsteady way out here had been worth it in the end.

“You’re a good man,” Will told Charly. “I think that’s all that matters now.”

“I made sure to be a good man. Especially to my old lady. I miss her a lot, you know.”

Will reached out and pat Charly’s big arm briefly. He truly did feel for the older man, whose sad face watched the dogs bounding in and out of the grass with a vague fondness. In the past, the younger man never would have found himself trusting a stranger so soon, especially so with his dogs. Charly, though -he was a gentle creature. Will could feel the kindness that exuded from this man as if it were a physical force.

“I’m sure she misses you too,” Will said. 

“I hope so.”

They watched as a strong gust of wind played in the tops of the trees. Behind them, something creaked along the wooden porch, and Will looked over his shoulder to find Hannibal leaning in the doorway. His features were shadowed, and yet still his frown could clearly be deciphered. Will mimicked the expression instinctively, following the man’s gaze to where it burned into the back of Charly’s head.

“Hannibal,” Will called. “Come over here. It’s nice out.”

A brown eye blinked and then sought out Will’s face, and the moment passed. Will forgot about it entirely when his friend sauntered out and leaned against the beam of wood behind Will, peering out at the beautiful day with a neutral expression.

“Hard to believe the world’s ended,” the young man said softly. “This place almost feels like my home back in Wolf Trap. It’s nice.”

His words were quiet and not necessarily voiced for an answer or an opinion. The men sat outside for an hour or more with sparse conversation. Eventually the dogs grew tired and wandered over with panting tongues, and Will and Hannibal returned to the house, and to the tiny bedroom. Will relieved himself in the bathroom despite the toilet not being able to flush, and walked towards the bed in time to see Hannibal tucking the sheets into the mattress primly.

They exchanged no words as they climbed into bed and lay close, Hannibal facing away this time with Will plastered to his back and clutching onto his waist in a fitful sleep.


	23. Surreal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ _What the fuck?_ ” the man snarled and bucked at the heaviness pinning him to the stiff mattress. 
> 
> “Calm yourself,” Hannibal growled.
> 
> Both men breathed heavily, and as Will’s struggles faded, Hannibal’s grip on his wrists relaxed minutely. Their chests touched and their legs were tangled, and their faces were inches apart in the dry and dusty atmosphere of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay (once more)! I promise I'm not losing interest or abandoning this baby ♥ Warm weather is seducing me is all :D
> 
> Not beta read!

Day Unknown

Days passed in a fugue of heat, time, and, as Will’s fever broke and his mind returned to him late one night, revelation.

Charly’s snores drifted in from the kitchen, where he slept on the dusty couch in the little nook that broke off from it. The bedroom was dark, and once his eyes had adjusted, he stared hard at the ceiling. What he could remember of the last however many days was the lingering darkness in Hannibal’s eyes and gestures and accented voice, and a warning bell thumped behind his ears. The man in question breathed evenly from where he lay next to Will, strong chest rising and falling in the dark. 

Will peered over at him briefly before returning his gaze to the ceiling. He remembered sitting outside with Charly, and although the memory had a fuzzy quality to it, he knew without a doubt that the doctor had designs on their new friend. 

What they were, however, remained a mystery.

He rolled over and dropped his hand off the side of the bed to bury in the nearest dog’s fur. They were getting oily and slightly ragged-looking as time crawled by. He wondered if he could wash them and give them something more substantial to eat, and on that tangent, he wondered if dragging them along with him was pointless after all: couldn’t they survive better on their own? At the very least, they probably wouldn’t be as hungry -animals didn’t understand rationing like humans did, and it broke his heart when the canines whined and grumbled in hunger.

When had the food situation become so dire? Had it always been as such? Will ran both his hands through his hair and sighed loudly. They had to leave this isolated place, and very soon.

****

Hannibal awoke the next morning to silence and emptiness. The bed next to him still had the imprint of its previous occupant, as well as the scent. He rolled over stiffly and smelled the pillow, eyes shutting. Inwardly, he could feel the beast growling threateningly, chains snapped with finality, free and lingering just beneath the doctor’s skin. He snarled quietly and then got out of the bed, eyes narrowed and taking in the absence of dogs as well as master.

The kitchen was pale and disgustingly dirtied, and dust broke away under each stride of his foot, leaving faint prints leading back into the bedroom. 

“He took his dogs out,” Charly’s voice pervaded Hannibal’s unpleasant thoughts.

“I figured as much,” he responded.

He turned to face the man, who sat on the tiny couch where he slept. His sad face stirred an irrational amount of rage within Hannibal.

“Are you hungry? There’s lots of soup,” the man offered, and then, “I’m going to make a trip into town. Maybe I can find dog food.”

“I’m not hungry, Charly,” Hannibal sighed as he spoke. “That’s very nice of you. I believe it will please Will.”

Indeed. Hannibal’s nostrils twitched. 

“I love dogs,” Charly explained gently. “They’re very nice. My old lady never let me have any, though. Said they shed too damn much.”

“They do,” the doctor said. 

Before they could exchange any further words, Will had squeezed into the house, followed by his pack of mutts. Blue eyes were ringed with exhaustion and also fear.

“There’s a hoard of them,” he explained shakily. “Not a big one. Probably twelve at most, but they saw me.”

Hannibal frowned deeply and barely refrained from growling. He wanted to crawl back into bed and clutch Will close to his chest -his heart. Movement at his periphery distracted Hannibal, and he turned as Charly stood and then crouched to search beneath the couch. When he stood, he held a hunting rifle steadily in his arms.

“I’ve got them,” he said. “You two go back to bed. You’re still sick, and you’re still injured.”

He nodded between each of them and then barrelled out of the house, the mostly ruined door swinging shut with a squeak. Hannibal considered pushing the bookshelf across it and being done with it. He’d drag Will into the bedroom and hold him down and whisper comfort into his ears. Hannibal made an abortive movement to do just that.

“I’m going to help him,” Will declared.

The young man turned and headed for the door despite his lack of a weapon. Hannibal’s throat tightened, and he struck swiftly, grabbing the smaller man’s upper arm in a vice grip that had him flinching. Will turned in his grasp and glared up at him before attempting to shake his hand away, and something in that snapped the tender hold on Hannibal’s control cleanly in half.

“ _No_ ,” he growled loudly.

Hannibal bodily lifted Will and brought him back into the bedroom, ignoring the uncertain barks and yips and pattering paws that followed. He tossed Will onto the mattress and then followed him down, grappling with flailing arms and meeting stormy blue eyes narrowed in angry disbelief. 

“Hannibal, let me go!” Will shouted.

His struggles were impressive, but he was still weak from his illness. Hannibal himself was far from his normal capabilities and strength, and yet he pinned two wrists above a thrashing head and covered Will with his bulk almost effortlessly, holding him down and riding out any and all of the man’s struggles.

“ _What the fuck?_ ” the man snarled and bucked at the heaviness pinning him to the stiff mattress. 

“Calm yourself,” Hannibal growled.

Both men breathed heavily, and as Will’s struggles faded, Hannibal’s grip on his wrists relaxed minutely. Their chests touched and their legs were tangled, and their faces were inches apart in the dry and dusty atmosphere of the room. In the distance, gunshots could be heard stirring the silence. Hannibal never once tore his eyes away from Will’s, even when they lost their angry lustre and sweat dropped off of his own forehead to trail between his friend’s eyebrows.

“You’re heavy,” the smaller man said softly, ignoring the traveling drop of fluid.

“I am,” Hannibal agreed. “I’ll release you if you promise to stay here.”

“I promise,” Will responded. “Just get off me. Please.”

Hannibal acquiesced wordlessly, rolling off of his friend and settling beside him. They both stared up at the ceiling now, laying on their backs and catching their breath, positions switched from how they had been this morning and every day before. Eventually, Will’s sweaty hand clasped Hannibal’s own.

“I hate being helpless,” he snarled quietly. “I hate this place. I hate why I’m here, I hate it all. I just want to go home.”

“There is no home,” the doctor shut his eyes and felt his heart calm.

“I know. But I want there to be. I don’t want to be here, starving. I want to be somewhere safe, where I can feed my dogs and wash their fur. Where I can take them outside to piss without a pack of fucking _zombies_ to worry about.”

“I know.”

“I’m tired of the soup,” Will groused. “It’s not even good.”

Hannibal fell asleep to the sound of his friend mumbling in complaint. Between their bodies, their hands remained firmly entwined.

****

“Hannibal!” Will grunted and shook the man’s shoulder once more.

Again, no response. He sighed and stumbled out of the bed, after taking the time to retrieve his hand from a tight, hot clutch. Somehow, they’d slept through the gunshots to follow the initial one, and Will’s stomach rumbled uneasily. He clicked at the dogs and bid them to stay, and then he quietly left the bedroom and then the house entirely. At the edge of his vision, what resembled water rippled with each step he took. He didn’t even realize that he was barefoot until a twig snapped and pinched his heel.

Still, he pushed ahead.

When he found the dead zombies, he barely even glanced at them. His head pounded and his body felt as if it were ready to float away. Patiently, he searched the perimeter of the pile of corpses, and then he turned to face the house in the distance. 

_Too many trees_ , he thought in defeat. _It’s not safe here._

His little house in Wolf Trap, Virginia had offered the illusion of a boat on the water late at night, when he could purposefully blur his vision until the world around it had resembled the ocean instead of the trees dotting his property. 

But here? There wasn’t even a wind to stir the trees.

Behind him, corpses continued to rot, although this time without movement or hungry snapping teeth.

Will sat down on the grass and clutched his head in both of his hands. His entire world tilted, and then he passed out, body slumping in the cool grass. Inside the house, Hannibal dreamt that his heart had been sliced from his chest, and that he seared it on a pan for dinner -whom it was for, however, escaped him, because he wasn’t hungry at all.

Maybe it was for the wolf that slumbered on his dining table? Hannibal wasn’t certain he wanted to wake it up.

What if it ate all of him instead?

****

“She probably swallowed too much smoke,” Beverly said. “But she should be fine.”

They weren’t at the warehouse anymore. The house they had found sat a mile or so away from the town that had turned out to be a disaster days and days ago. A silence settled heavily the first few hours, when they had cleared the place of corpses and debris. It was a two storey house, long in the back and narrow over all, shaped like a tall rectangle with peeling paint and missing shingles on a gently curving roof. Most of the rooms were full of clutter and aged furniture, but two upstairs had beds and space for each of them.

“Why hasn’t she woken up yet?” Jack asked.

Melly lay on the couch downstairs, and Jack and Beverly stood over her. When they’d arrived here, the blonde woman had been conscious, if dazed. She had simply fallen asleep and then not woken up, even as the rest of them moved through their day.

“I’m not a doctor,” Beverly grunted. “Shock, maybe?”

“Avoid the situation altogether and just sleep forever,” Jack mumbled.

Upstairs, Jimmy and Brian could be heard hammering away. They had been taking turns systematically boarding up the building, starting with the windows downstairs and then working their way up. The previous owners had apparently been hoarders, and so there were plenty of supplies to use. 

“I wish I could do that,” Beverly chirped.

Her long hair had been clipped to her head in a tight bun, and she had opted to dress in tight clothes to prevent being grabbed in the event of a zombie attack. Jack had stripped his rags and dressed in loose black slacks and a muscle shirt. Behind them sat a backpack, waiting for them as they observed the sleeping woman.

“She’s got to know what happened,” Jack whispered. “Will and Hannibal got away. They must have.”

Beverly ducked her head and remained silent. She turned away and shouldered the backpack, and then trudged towards the front door. Jack sighed loudly and then followed, palming the handle of the machete that he’d taken from Melly after the fire at the warehouse. 

_Will_ , he thought. _Where the fuck are you?_

When they arrived in town, nothing moved or made a sound. Bodies were strewn about the street, and the broken windows of the various stores glittered where shards still stuck to their frames. Weeds had already begun crowding out of the sidewalks and popping up between the cracks, and the lawns were shaggy and untended around the houses that dotted the streets. Beverly and Jack parked and left the van, and then eased into one of the food stores to see what they could find. 

“More beans,” Beverly snickered. “Even during the apocalypse no one wants these, it seems.”

Jack didn’t smile or laugh. His humor had long fled, and his mind now circled around Will’s disappearance and, primarily, his wife. Bella had become sick after the fire, having inhaled far too much smoke, and even now she lay curled up in one of the beds, wheezing and coughing. He stood in front of what had been the freezers in the back of the store, hand coming up to his face to pinch at the bridge of his nose. His ears were ringing loudly.

“Jack? You okay?”

He snapped to and found the dark-haired woman staring up at him in concern. 

“I’m fine. Let’s grab what we can.”

They filled the backpack with whatever appeared edible, swiping the stuff into the bag as fast as they could. Despite not having seen any zombies at all, let alone people, they wanted to finish this quickly. When the bag had been filled, they turned to leave and found a tall man blocking the doorway, hand loosely holding onto a hunting rifle that pointed towards the floor.

“Hi,” the man greeted. “I’m Charly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter wont take long to be released at all! I'm going to write it up tomorrow and post it =) I promise things will be answered!


	24. Limbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What happened?” he whispered.
> 
> Will found one of Hannibal’s hands and clutched the long fingers tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know things are moving rather slowly, but from here on out they will be going at a bit of a faster pace! Sorry if this reads weird at all. I struggled a bit, but I wanted to finish this like...sorta 'arc' of the story :D Aka the Boys Being Sick arc xD
> 
> Not beta read!

Day Unknown

The world moved slowly and steadily when Will awoke. His head lolled to side and his eyes blinked open blurrily. After a few confused seconds, he became aware of the sound of crunching leaves and other underbrush, and then he looked up and found Hannibal staring straight ahead, determined.

“Hannibal?” Will’s voice came out hoarse, throat dry and scratchy.

Brown eyes flitted down at him before Hannibal returned to keeping his eyes on the path ahead of him.

“I was worried,” the doctor said with a grunt as he stepped over a particularly large root. “I found you passed out on the grass.”

Will squeezed his eyes shut and then shuddered as a chill passed through him. Was he dreaming?

“Where are we?” he asked uncertainly.

Hannibal didn’t answer, and Will frowned. His vision blurred more heavily, and in the back of his mind a constant high-pitched buzzing began to grow louder and louder until it was all that he could hear. Before he passed out, he caught a glimpse of a raised tail twitching ahead of them, and then his consciousness faded. 

When he woke up next time, it was to the gentle sensation of Hannibal laying him on the ground and tucking a blanket around him. A large hand settled on his forehead, and it was hot and damp when it came away with the palm soaked in the sweat clinging to Will’s forehead and hair. It took a few minutes for his vision to clear enough to focus on the other man, and when he did, Will’s stomach clenched. Hannibal crouched next to him, eye droopy and breath panting lightly out of him. Half of his face remained bandaged, and the other half was pale and sickly.

“Sit with me?” Will asked.

Hannibal grunted and acquiesced, flopping to the ground next to Will and sighing long and loud. Around them both, the dogs sniffed at the ground or settled as well, panting tongues dripping slobber onto dead leaves.

“That house was no longer safe for us, Will,” Hannibal finally spoke, answering Will’s question finally. “I am bringing you to a safer place.”

_You need a safe place, too._

“Us,” Will corrected tiredly. 

Hannibal didn’t respond.

Will huddled in the blanket. The ground beneath him was hard and cool, and around them both rose tall trees with heavy, leafy branches. He thought it must be late afternoon, perhaps near sunset. Will groaned and curled on his side, away from Hannibal. His vision was blurry, and it took him a few minutes to realize he could see Winston laying nearby, muzzle resting on paws and black eyes blinking slowly at him.

“I feel like I’m on fire,” he said, and the golden dog perked an ear.

A steady hand settled on his shoulder, and then Will found himself dragged bodily against the man behind him, until his back rested along the other’s chest. Strong arms settled around him safely, and a warm cheek rested on his head, nose searching in his curls. The younger man twitched and then shuddered once more, before he exhaled and settled down.

“What happened?” he whispered.

Will found one of Hannibal’s hands and clutched the long fingers tightly.

“I woke up and couldn’t find you. Your dogs remained in the room. I was,” Hannibal paused and let out a yawn into his hair. “I was worried for you, Will.”

“I had a dream that I went outside but it wasn’t Wolf Trap. It wasn’t safe.”

“It wasn’t. You were correct.” 

Will shut his eyes and felt like his brain was sloshing around in his skull. He remembered the pills that he had been taking, left on the nightstand. His fever, soaking his body, raging through his system once more, sorely required the medication. He knew that it had been helping, knew that he had been sane for a little while. Maybe. 

_What if everything is a dream after all?_

One hell of a fever dream.

****

Crickets chirped, echoing across the clearing in the woods. It was full-dark now, and a breeze stirred the leaves above. Hannibal inhaled at Will’s hair, eyes shut as he focused on the scent pervading his nostrils. 

_Better._

He hesitantly pulled away, removing his arms from the blanketed bundle. With a slight struggle, he managed to remove his shirt and ball it up to serve as a pillow for his friend, the undershirt beneath it providing adequate warmth for him. Then he stood and walked towards the woods to begin retrieving kindle for a fire, snapping his fingers at one of the smaller canines that made to follow him -Bridget, if he could recall; dirty curly fur and eyes blinking out of an unruly fringe. She sat down and whined once, but obeyed her master’s friend.

Hannibal stepped carefully over roots in the darkening woods. He wasn’t any stranger to surviving in an environment like this, although his soft life in Baltimore had spoiled him to an extent. Since this zombie outbreak, however, he remained constantly on guard, no longer concerned with compositions or sophisticated palettes or the like. Instead, he operated within a familiar mindset that had his safety as the main concern. Well -mostly.

Truthfully, the only thing that mattered more now lay curled in a thin blanket. It was curious to think about, to think that it had taken the end of the world for Hannibal Lecter to accept another into his life, mind, and-

-heart? Hannibal pushed the thoughts aside, picked up another dry branch, and then walked back in the direction that he had come from. 

_Such thoughts deserve patience_ he thought. _Patience and a full belly._

When he returned, it had grown even darker. The doctor still moved slow with exhaustion, but his body hummed with more energy than it had possessed in several days. Hannibal knelt near his slumbering friend and arranged his kindling into a lazy pyramid shape. He piled dried leaves around it and a few twigs, and then firmly clutched two sticks in hand. 

“Hann-?” a quiet voice broke out into the clearing, heard over the sound of the wood rubbing together in an attempt to birth a spark. “Hannibal?”

“I’m here.”

The blanket rustled, and Hannibal looked up from the fire he had finally managed to spark, consumed in his thoughts and his plans for the immediate and long-term future. Crouched where he was, he met dark eyes and a barely-discernable set of features. 

“We are safe,” the doctor informed his friend. “Rest, dear one.”

Instead, Will struggled into a sitting position and moved closer to the fire, holding onto the blanket tightly. The growing flames lit up a tired face and a confused expression. Hannibal stood and walked around the makeshift firepit to sit next to the younger man, but for a long time they both stared into dancing red and orange tendrils as they consumed wood and leaves. After a few minutes of silence, Will shifted until he could lean against his friend, and Hannibal lifted his arm and wrapped it around shaking shoulders to pull the man close.

“So cold,” Will complained with chattering teeth. “Why am I cold if my brain is burning up?”

Hannibal tore his gaze away from the fire and reached over with his free hand, tangling his fingers into drying hair. Will’s forehead was still damp, but he didn’t feel as hot anymore. A small grin took over the doctor’s features, one that Will caught and furrowed his brow at.

“What?” he demanded.

“You remind me of one of your mutts. All scraggly with a whine ready at a moment’s notice,” Hannibal’s grin widened as blue eyes narrowed at him. “Don’t make that face, my boy.”

It took barely any effort to move his body, to face Will slightly and to drag the smaller man forward until he rested partially upon the doctor. Both arms wrapped securely around a blanket-clad body, and an astute nose settled once more within drying curly locks of hair. Will’s shoulders had tensed at first, and now they slowly relaxed. Hot air blew across Hannibal’s neck gently.

“What are we doing?” the young man whispered. “Whispering sweet nothings in a black forest.”

“While all around us, the world has fallen,” Hannibal’s grin faded.

“I’m hungry, Hannibal.”

_As am I._

“Sleep.”

Will slept, and so did Hannibal. Likewise, so did the dogs, tired and huddled around the humans as the fire burned and ash soared into the sky along with reaching fingers of smoke. Far above, the night sky showed twinkling stars and a few sparse clouds floating lazily passed a full moon.

****

“I didn’t ask them their names,” Charly said again. “They didn’t stay long.”

Of course he knew them. Will and Hannibal, Hannibal and Will. He even knew their last names. Despite not wanting to, he had overheard a lot of conversations. But while he didn’t mistrust the people standing before him, some part of him insisted that he lie just a little.

“Right,” the big man ran a tired hand over his forehead. “But you still saw them. Were they injured?”

“I think so,” Charly looked around the store, avoided the black eyes gleaming at him. 

“Jack,” the woman set a slender hand on Jack’s arm and sought out his gaze. “We need to get back before it gets much darker. We’re not safe like this.”

“I know,” Jack frowned.

Charly watched the exchange from the corner of his eye as he scanned the bottom shelves in the store for dog food. Eventually, he determined that there weren’t any of the ungainly bags left that normally sat there.

“Are you staying here?” Jack’s deep voice interrupted the flow of Charly’s thoughts.

“It’s nice out. Nothing is going to happen tonight,” he provided as an answer. 

Twin frowns met his statement, but no other words followed. Charly hefted his gun and then turned his back on the strangers. They didn’t need his help. As he walked away, he heard the female whispering furiously.

“Wait!” Jack called.

He barreled out of the store and hailed Charly. The man in overalls turned around patiently, sad face waiting for further questioning. He wanted to go home and eat a can of his favorite soup.

“We’re staying in the house off the road up there a few miles. The funny-shaped one. You know it?”

“Sure I do,” Charly smiled. “My cousins used to live there years ago.”

“Ah. Well, that’s where we’re staying for now. Come see us if you want. And if you see those men again, you tell them where we are, okay?”

Charly nodded seriously, and then he began to walk away once more. He walked home with his gun pointed at the ground the entire time, stepped over the zombie bodies that lay bloodied in their final resting place, and then stopped inside his grandpa’s house. Silence echoed in the old, tiny building.

“Goodbye,” the man whispered. 

****

Will startled awake, leaving a nightmare of reaching tentacles with large, protruding spikes. His body, held tightly in a vice grip, jolted and struggled before he was fully conscious. It took him far too long to realize that Hannibal’s arms were the ones that were holding him, refusing to budge despite his panicked movements. Soothing whispers floated into his ears.

“It’s merely me, Will,” the man reassured him. “Calm yourself. Listen to my heart.”

The familiar weight of his friend’s hand cupped the back of his head, and Will allowed the man to guide him until his ear pressed against a steady chest. Both men settled once more, one drifting in and out of a hazy dream to the safe sound of a pounding heart, and the other keeping watch. Before he could settle into sleep entirely, Will blinked his eyes and pulled his head away from his friend’s chest.

“Hannibal,” he gasped.

Eyes that appeared red in the flickering firelight opened and met his own. Drawing in a deep breath, Will untangled his hand from where it pressed between their bodies and cupped the side of Hannibal’s face, thumb stroking along one sharp cheekbone, the one not covered in gauze and the remnants of the fiery disaster from the warehouse. He inhaled his friend’s scent and smelled smoke and earth and dampness, and then he moved close to cover the man’s lips with his own. Their mouths moved languidly in a kiss that was full of too many emotions, those unable to be voiced and those unable to be named. Fingers tugged firmly at Will’s hair, and a growl rose from his chest only to be devoured by the man he rested on. Pulling away, Will licked his lips and tasted salt and wetness.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“Whatever for?” an accented voice roughened with tiredness and heat tickled over Will’s forehead.

“For keeping me safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note: Hannibal may not be as manipulative in this story, but he is incredibly selfish. He wants to be the only one providing for Will, and the only one to keep him safe. I know he's mostly doing the opposite right now, but he'll smarten up eventually ;3
> 
> Probably going to get the next chapter up tomorrow, provided I find the time ♥


	25. Onwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can keep you safe,” the older man deadpanned. “I always keep my promises, Will.”
> 
> “I know that. But we’re safer with them.”
> 
> Hannibal’s face underwent several minuscule changes, and had Will not been staring at it, he would have missed it entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONWARDS! I'm hoping there wont be any more delays. I think my slow burn has burned people out instead, but I hope you will enjoy what remains to happen! The Hannigram feels are upon us!
> 
> Not beta read!

Day Unknown

“As I predicted.”

Will squinted in the distance and saw the wrecked remnants of the warehouse they had once sought solace in. Breaking out of the forest left them vulnerable, and he shivered slightly as they stepped across the field. Having woken up this morning feeling less like a capsizing ship, he had been surprised to note that Hannibal had brought his satchel of medical supplies after all, and also their small supply of food -including a few cans of that awful soup.

They shared one of the aforementioned cans, heated over the fire and easier to consume now that it wasn’t a lumpy mass. 

Still, his stomach roiled and his clothes were dry and sticking to his skin. As they walked, he found himself wishing for nothing more than a hot bath and a clean pair of everything. Hannibal carried their belongings as he trudged alongside the smaller man, and his untidy profile was in stark contrast under the sunlight already beating down on them. His ragged appearance still startled Will at times, and as he thought about it, he ran a hand through his own unruly beard. 

He wished he could shave it off entirely. He wished he could do a lot of things.

“What did you predict?” he asked tiredly.

“They others have left. Most likely they’ve headed into town.”

“Good. Let’s go find them.”

Silence met his words. Will glanced away from his pack, who made their way across the grounds with the two men in searching patterns, noses pressing against grass and dirt curiously.

“We’re safer in numbers,” Will said. “You know that. We shouldn’t have even left Charly’s place. And why didn’t we take the truck?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters plenty to me. Hannibal,” Will stopped walking, and he squared his shoulders when the doctor did as well, a few paces ahead of him; he met a single narrowed brown eye and a deeply frowning set of lips. “What’s going on?”

“I can keep you safe,” the older man deadpanned. “I always keep my promises, Will.”

“I know that. But we’re safer with them.”

Hannibal’s face underwent several miniscule changes, and had Will not been staring at it, he would have missed it entirely. What had once been a blank, however patient expression, had now stiffened, pale brows furrowed slightly and the corner of one lip twitching. Most of the change, however, occurred within the single visible eye. It darkened significantly.

“Hannibal?” he questioned the silence.

The older man remained unspeaking. For a long time, the only movement was that of the dogs, the animals circling the men and waiting for them to continue walking, content to wait and explore the new area. Will’s stomach grew heavy with a familiar brick of dread the longer they faced off in the field.

“You prefer them,” Hannibal finally spoke -his voice deepened into a growl.

“What?”

Will wondered if he were missing something. Hannibal now appeared to be insulted; no, _angry_. 

“If you prefer them, then go find them yourself,” the doctor snapped.

“Hanni-”

“ _Go_!”

The shout echoed loudly, and the dogs jumped at the sudden loud noise. Buster whined nervously and nudged at Will’s leg searchingly, wanting reassurance or a nice scritch behind one ear. Will ignored the canine, ignored the cold wind that teased at his hair and clothes, no longer protected by the thick trees. He ignored the lone bird that called out, and he ignored his own heart despite its progressively louder, drumming rhythm.

Hannibal’s face was haggard, bracketed by a beard growing in brown and grey and thick. His hair was longer as well, and it fell into his face. It was like staring at the man’s twin, or an improper doppleganger -in other circumstances, there was no way that this could be Hannibal Lecter. But it was, and this circumstance was stressful and frustratingly confusing. There was an air of betrayal that lingered between them, and the loud, echoing command hung in the air heavy and hurtful.

“No,” Will said. “I’m not leaving you.”

The brown eye shut and a loud sigh heaved out of a thick chest. Hannibal dropped the bag and the satchel and ran both hands through his hair as he turned away from Will, who still worked at figuring out just what was going on. Suddenly, it made sense, in an abstract way, the way he knew that the town was dangerous the first time they found the steel warehouse. He didn’t say another word -instead, he walked over to Hannibal and embraced him from behind, clasping arms tight around the taller man and laying his cheek on his back. His friend tensed immediately.

“I’m not leaving you,” Will repeated quietly. “I’m just afraid.”

“You’ve no need to be afraid.”

_I guess he’s right. It’s not like the world hasn’t already ended._

Hannibal turned around in the embrace and circled Will with his own bigger arms, pulling their bodies close and tight. His nose buried itself in the younger man’s neck, and Will squeezed his eyes shut at the sensation of lips smoothing across his skin. He could feel his friend’s heart beating against his own.

“We really should have taken the truck, though,” he grumbled.

Hannibal chuckled softly and held onto him tighter.

****

After several long hours walking along the highway, Hannibal smirked inwardly. He’d spotted the car the first time they’d driven past here, keen eyes picking up the glint of a key still in the ignition. He stopped by the vehicle, searching around it first, and then he opened the driver’s door and frowned. There sat the keys still, yes, but a corpse rotted across both front seats.

“Here,” he said.

Will walked closer and peered inside as well, nose already scrunched. He accepted the bags from his friend and hefted the bigger one over one shoulder, opting to hug the leather satchel close to his chest. Hannibal sniffed, olfactory senses appalled at the scent of decay and filth, but he continued forward and gripped the body to pull it out.

“Oh god,” Will walked away and heaved dryly into the grass and weeds on the side of the road.

Hannibal scowled and dropped the half of the body that had willingly broken away from the rest of its owner, lips twitching at the blood that splashed at his shirt. He dropped the mess on the pavement, glancing at Will as he groaned loudly at the squishing sound that the remains made. Holding his breath, Hannibal reached in further and managed to drag an arm away, which he tossed over his shoulder with a growl.

“Fuck this,” Will said from nearby. “I’m sitting in the back seat.”

The older man didn’t reply. Instead, he gripped what he could of the soggy, rotted corpse, and heaved. At last, the seats were empty, although blood and other viscera dotted the polyester in nasty stains. 

“Come,” Hannibal instructed. “Your dogs will have to take the back, Will.”

Another groan, drawn out and full of disgusted complaint. Hannibal glanced sharply at his friend, but his expression softened at the sight of pale skin and wide blue eyes. He imagined that were their bellies fuller, the other would have lost what he’d eaten entirely. 

“I’ll cover your seat,” he said. “The smell will begin to fade once we begin driving. Come, Will. Please.”

The animals were reluctant to enter the small enclosure, though not as much as their master was. They piled in the back seat, and when Hannibal finally managed to persuade Will to sit, having covered the seat with the blanket the man had curled up in last night, Buster and Bridget had to be held up front. Hannibal no longer cared about the disadvantage that the pack of creatures supplied them with; he knew that Will would sooner leave with them were Hannibal to say that they had to go. He’d already witnessed his friend’s stubbornness on that particular topic.

“God, this reeks,” Will grunted as Hannibal got behind the wheel of the car.

It did. Unfathomably so. Hannibal steeled himself and turned the key in the ignition, pleased when it purred to life immediately. A glance at the gas dial made him smile outwardly.

“I’m glad you can smile at a time like this,” the young man groused.

“The car has plenty of gas -I believe that is reason enough to smile.”

Without another word, he put the car in reverse, and then turned it around to head the way that they had come those many days ago. Will snapped around and looked at the disappearing husk of the warehouse.

“Where are we going?” he asked immediately.

Hannibal didn’t answer.

****

Melly woke up earlier than everyone else and observed the living room that she rested in. A candle had guttered out on the table nearby, and a battery-powered clock _tick-tocked_ from the kitchen. In the light of the early sun, she found Beverly asleep in a chair to her right. Melly’s heart skipped a beat as she slowly sat up and removed the blanket from her sleep-warm body. She managed to take two steps toward the front door when Beverly’s eyes snapped open.

“Where are you going?” the woman demanded tiredly.

She had no answer that wasn’t a lie, and so she didn’t speak. She could feel her skin pulled tight painfully where she had been burned, and a wave of despair and anger washed through her. 

“Hey!”

Melly let the front door swing shut behind her, ignoring Beverly’s raised voice. A glance at the sky showed fat clouds and a tranquil blue sky dyed orange and pink and purple near the rising sun. A chill traveled over her skin immediately from a sneaky wind. She stopped outside of the house and felt her spirit break.

“I’ve got you,” a voice spoke close by.

She realized that she must have fallen or fainted or both, and she didn’t know whether to be thankful or angry that Beverly had caught her. It wasn’t until they were inside of the house that Melly realized she hated everyone and everything in this dying, brutal world.

“I wanted to die back there,” she hissed at Beverly once the woman stepped away.

Black eyes widened in confusion. Melly felt her hatred grow.

“The warehouse. I set the fire, Beverly.”

The words rang out like a gong had been struck. Both women turned simultaneously to face the figure that had just stepped into the room as Melly spilled her awful truth. 

“You could have killed us all,” Bella hissed.

She looked exhausted, black hair disheveled and loose, and clothes dirty with mud and sweat and dried blood. Her serene face had drawn into a snarl the likes of which not even her husband had likely seen before, and her fists lay at her sides clenched violently tight. 

“Why?” Beverly asked firmly.

No stricken voice there. Melly looked between her two fellow women and felt strength. Impossible, unending strength. She envied them both. 

“I made a deal with Hannibal,” she confessed.

_I made a deal with the devil._

****

True to his word, the smell faded after about an hour on the road, drifting at high speeds. Will had rolled his window down as far as it would go, and he ignored the strong gust that made it difficult to breath or see properly. He blinked rapidly and inhaled clean air as if he were starved for it. Beside him, Hannibal snorted.

“You will have plenty of fresh air to consume once we arrive,” the doctor informed him.

“At this place you still haven’t told me about?”

Will refrained from rolling his eyes, although he did roll the window up most of the way. Buster lay on his lap fast asleep, and the other small canine had curled up on the floor across his feet. In the back, the rest of the pack lay piled but content, snoozing as the vehicle careened down the highway.

“Do you trust me?” Hannibal asked.

“You know I do.”

A large hand settled on his thigh just then, and Will swallowed around a lump that had grown in his throat suddenly. He could feel the warm weight of the man’s fingers seeping into his flesh, and it suffused him with a peacefulness that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Despite the dread that yet filled him, despite the sickness that dirtied his veins and the matter of his brain, Will knew that he was safe in that moment.

And he knew that he would continue to be, so long as Hannibal stayed next to him -so long as he stayed next to Hannibal.


	26. Passenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t care where we go so long as we’re safe,” Will sighed tiredly. “I just want to curl up for a few days and sleep.”
> 
> “Like the dead?” the doctor inquired playfully.
> 
> “Yeah.”
> 
> Will tried to summon a smile, and maybe the corner of his lips twitched a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry T_T The delays and postponed chapters and stuff....I feel so horrible. D": -flails around-
> 
> Sadly, I have to put this on hold once more, but I'm adding a chapter ♥ It wont be horribly long, I promise. I WILL NOT GIVE UP ON THIS STORY.
> 
> Thank you so very much, all of you, for the comments and kudos, and for reading and joining me on the zombie-ific adventure! If it's any consolation at all, there will be plenty of Hannigram moments from here on out! ♥
> 
> I WILL RETURN.
> 
> Not beta read~

Day Unknown

At the house, Jack learned about Melly’s betrayal at a time that already had him questioning life as a whole. Here they were in the midst of a zombie apocalypse -not a shattered world following an explosion of extreme, nuclear proportions-, a goddamn _zombie_ apocalypse. Creatures who had been depicted over time in several adaptations of films, art, stories, a genre of its own that had devolved over time into a cheap horror tactic or in ways that people would have referred to it all as ‘cheesy’ and ridiculously impossible. Now those people were dead, and so was most of the world at large as far as Jack was concerned. 

The big man stared into the distance, leaning against the wall behind him on the front step. The others were inside, minus Melly, who had an hour before killed herself. Echoes of the single bullet fired into an open mouth still rocked around his skull, and his hands were still shaking.

“Four bullets left,” Brian remarked, coming to a stop near him with a soft sigh. “Other than that, we don’t have much. Lots of knives at least.”

“Got to look at the bright side,” Jack said, not blinking and not looking away from the landscape, stretching away silently around them.

“Yeah. Like the fact that that shot should have drawn attention, but it didn’t.”

Neither asked how she’d managed to retrieve the gun. It didn’t matter in the end. Jack had seen death many times in his life, before and after the circumstances he found himself in, but this one lingered distastefully in his mind. He hadn’t known about her involvement with the fire until after she had died, so the feeling sinking into the pit of his stomach wasn’t guilt - it was anger because of what she had confessed.

_Hannibal Lecter_ , he thought with a sneer.

“It’s too quiet,” he eventually agreed. “I don’t like it.”

Together, they scanned the sky and the fields that stretched for miles. Not even animals called this section of the world their home, at least not those that made their sound in the air in chirps or chitters. Not even the monsters clicked and clacked. Eventually they went back into the house, where Jimmy and Beverly sat on the couch that Melly had previous lay on. There was a heavy silence that reigned for almost an entire hour before Bella walked into the living room with a resoluteness about her that drew all of their attention.

“I’m sick of this,” she shouted. “I’m sick of the egg shells you are all sprinkling around yourselves.”

Jack narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to respond to his wife’s outburst.

“No,” Bella snapped at him. “We all know who is responsible for this shit.”

They did. And that person was the only one who truly knew the whole story, being man who had engineered it all to happen in the first place. Each of them nursed their own sizeable chunk of anger, though Bella especially appeared to be more affected by it -and Jack had his own ideas of why, and were they true, he wasn’t sure how he would feel. Nothing changed the fact that another person had died, however, and this time more unexpectedly, leaving them with a lack of closure. 

That, and Will remained missing, him and his dogs and the evil monster that the big man longed to gut and string up much like Hannibal had his many victims.

_Will_ , Jack thought. _What madness is he feeding you?_

He wondered if he had any right to miss a man that he had used in the past -he didn’t pretend to deny that that was what he had done. Still, Will had often filled a place in his heart where he imagined a son could have been, in some ways.

“We find him,” Bella growled. “We find them both.”

“Bella, they could be anywhere,” Jack sighed again.

“That man tried to have us killed,” the woman said, and though her voice had lowered, it had now filled with a deadliness that had everyone looking at her wearily.

There was no denying that, either.

****

How many hours had passed? Will lay curled in the front seat, head propped on one arm, Buster warm in his lap. Hannibal drove silently. Conversation had faded nearly forty minutes ago, and the only sounds that kept them company were car noises, the rev of the engine, the sound of the wheels bumping on the road. A glance at the sky showed the young man a view of thick and dark grey clouds gathering heavily.

Minutes later, it began to rain, and yet the setting sun still peeked out from behind the mass of stormclouds, striking the earth in a few blindingly bright rays.

“You have somewhere set away, somewhere safe, don’t you?” he asked later, sitting up to peer at the windshield wipers squeaking as they flung water away.

“Yes,” the man answered. “A place that I have kept stocked. There is a generator there as well.”

“What makes you think someone hasn’t found it yet?”

It seemed unlikely that a place existed now that remained untouched. Will knew he was wrong in thinking that, as the planet was vast, and now that the world’s population had diminished severely, it seemed even more unlikely. Mostly the feeling was owed to his own personal experience, which encompassed only a chunk of highway and forgotten places where people existed or didn’t any longer. For the first time in a while, he thought about Alana Bloom; her rosy cheeks and a plume of mist trailing from her mouth as she greeted him one cold morning in the parking lot at Quantico. Bright blue eyes squinted as she smiled in that way that had lifted his spirits and his heart all at once.

“If they have, then so be it,” the man glanced over at Will as he spoke, and the young man could feel the pressure of his gaze like a firm caress.

He looked over at his friend, who had once been the Chesapeake Ripper, and who now drove the vehicle of dogs and men over a distance filled with empty or crashed cars, rotting corpses baked in the heat of the days that had passed, and time: infinite time that held them suspended in world of emptiness and quiet. 

“I don’t care where we go so long as we’re safe,” Will sighed tiredly. “I just want to curl up for a few days and sleep.”

“Like the dead?” the doctor inquired playfully.

“Yeah.”

Will tried to summon a smile, and maybe the corner of his lips twitched a bit. He faded into a dreamless sleep before long, and when he woke up, it was to the sound of Hannibal opening the driver’s-side door. The rain had stopped.

“Here?” Will asked hoarsely. 

“Not quite yet. I wish to stretch my legs and take care of a few things,” Hannibal leaned down and smiled at him, and Will’s heart swelled with an unnamed emotion for the scruffy, familiar face looking at him. “Eat something. Or sleep. I’ll return, my love.”

The door shut with a thump, and Will watched Hannibal disappear into the trees that now lined one side of the highway. He felt nervous despite the emptiness that lingered even here and despite the absence of zombies, and then he went over his friend’s parting words with squinting eyes and a worrying of lips. It seemed too much like a fairy tale, to have his body tingling with feelings that he could hardly begin to decipher -but it wasn’t, and he leaned further into the seat and shut his eyes for a few moments more. Then, yawning, he got out of the car to let the dogs do their own business, keeping a careful eye on them as he munched on a few crackers and swallowed a mouthful of lukewarm water. The very last fingers of daylight pricked at the horizon, and before long, he piled his pack back inside of the car, and then stayed outside to sit on the hood of it.

“Will,” Hannibal called to him as he got closer, picking his way through the long grass on his way. 

“Hi,” Will lifted a hand. “Thought I might have to send a search party.”

Hannibal smirked wryly before joining him, sitting close and leaning with one arm situated behind the younger man. Will blinked up at him once, suddenly feeling as if his heart had climbed into his throat. Even ragged and hairy, injured and bandaged and exhausted, Hannibal was a handsome man -maybe even more so, in juxtapose to how he’d used to appear. Instinctively, Will moved closer to the vessel of safety and warmth and power.

Their lips brushed softly, a touching of velvet soft pinkness. Again, firmer, Will angling his head a bit as he nudged at Hannibal’s closed mouth. The two men shared breath through flared nostrils, and finally their mouths opened and traded heat, tongues stroking and tangling together in a timeless dance of dominance and submission. Will shut his eyes and reached over to cup the side of Hannibal’s face with a quiet moan.

“You would do this here?” Hannibal asked, panting slightly as they drew away. “Wicked boy.”

Chuckling, Will carded his hand through messy hair and then gripped the strands tightly. He crushed their lips together once more and plunged his tongue into Hannibal’s mouth, licking over the man’s palate and petting along the other wet, searching muscle that fought to attain control. The kiss grew wild and loud, spit traded in a sensual meeting with teeth clicking and noses nudging against the other. Hannibal’s arm encircled his waist from behind now instead of taking his weight on the hood of the car, and with a shift, he pulled and arranged Will until the younger man straddled his lap.

“Yes,” Will gasped. “ _Right here_.”

At least for now.

Will wrapped his arms tightly around Hannibal’s strong neck and allowed his weight to sink onto the bigger man’s body below him. He shivered at the hand that stroked down his spine firmly, and then moaned at the nip delivered to his kiss-plump bottom lip. He pressed his body into his friend’s and fought to keep dominance in the kiss that grew long and uncoordinated. Passion whispered between them in the racing of their hearts and heaving breaths.

When they pulled away this time, the sun had disappeared and they existed beneath the bone-white glitter of a full moon climbing higher and higher as night took over. 

“Enough for now, I think,” Hannibal whispered between short, playful kisses. 

“I’d rather there be more,” Will complained.

“Likewise, but night finds us vulnerable out here, Will,” the doctor scanned the blackness between trees on one side of the highway.

Will slid off of the man and found that he stood unsteadily, legs shivering with anticipation. His heart skipped a beat when Hannibal stood and embraced him close and tight.

“Soon,” the man promised into his ear, scruffy cheek scratching along his own. “Let us get to safety.”

They parted ways and then joined each other in the car, driver and passenger. The dogs greeted them both with snuffling noses, Chester shoving himself between them and slathering Hannibal’s face with a happy lick that had the man scowling with disgust. Again, Will marvelled at this existence, their joined one, out here in a place bereft of other life. He decided if it did all turn out to be a long, laborious dream keeping him company on a fevered night, then he was glad of it, at least for now.

****

Hannibal slipped the key out of the engine of the car when it had come to a stop. Ahead, the modern, single-floored building with its wide windows and gleaming surfaces winked at him in the moonlight. He observed the unkempt lawn and the face of the house that had been purchased with a very particular intention in mind. He smirked as he eased out and shut the door softly so as not to wake Will, palming his knife and strolling up to the front door.

It was locked. 

Next, he looked into the window and took in the shadows on the inside.

Undisturbed.

_As I thought_.

He walked to the side of the building and searched beneath a heavy stone in the overgrown garden for the spare key, and his body surged with pleasure at the small, cold weight of it. When he returned to the front door, he found that Will had woken and was now climbing out of the car with a sleepiness that had yet to lift entirely, and there was sweat clinging to his brow and shining on his neck. The fever had returned.

“We’re home,” Hannibal announced to the blue-eyed man squinting at him.

“Home,” Will repeated blankly.


	27. Interval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Of course,” Will stood and ran a hand through his hair. “So, what is this place?”
> 
> Hannibal smoothed his own hand down his face, over stubble and bandages alike, and studied Will closely.
> 
> “A safehouse,” he supplied eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. AGAIN. Ohmygod. Life keeps punching me or being rude. *eats it*
> 
> Not beta read!

Day Unknown

Inside, the house was dim and dusty. White sheets lay over furniture and decor like ghosts, barely stirring in the breeze kicked up by the front door closing after man and canine had wandered inside safely. Together, they dropped their belongings on the hardwood floor, and as Will craned his head and squinted his eyes to look around the unlit entrance, vast and reaching out of his sight, Hannibal soundlessly strode forward and caught the young man by surprise within a fierce embrace. They bumped into the door at the force of the movement, one large hand cupping the back of Will’s head and cushioning him against the solid oak door. 

The other grasped onto his hip firmly as Hannibal captured his friend’s lips in a lasting, sensual kiss. For several long moments they tasted each other again, familiar and yet new -so new, and Will gasped loudly when they pulled apart, peering up at a sharp-angled face covered partially in shadows.

“Wait here,” Hannibal whispered hoarsely, breath warm on Will’s mouth and cheeks.

The man strode off with purpose. Will was left to look around himself curiously, taking a few steps in one direction and then stopping. The adrenaline piling high in his heart and mind faded with Hannibal’s footsteps, and he squeezed his eyes tight as he became aware of a headache raging in his skull. His hair was greasy and wet with oil and sweat, and his palms were itching. And as he continued to stand there, rigid and still, his ears began to ring at a shrill pitch -covering them did nothing to ease the pain of it drilling into his brain.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself.

He could feel one of his dogs panting close by, the others having wandered off to explore their new surroundings. He wasn’t surprised when he opened his eyes and found Winston tilting his head up at him, one ear perked in question.

“Hey, boy,” Will knelt and scrubbed his hands through slightly matted fur, smiling as Winston nudged forward to bump into his chest affectionately.

Suddenly lights flicked on. 

“All of the fuel remains for the generator,” Hannibal announced as he walked towards Will and his dog. “I would still ask you to be conscious of turning lights off when you’re not in the room, however.”

“Of course,” Will stood and ran a hand through his hair. “So, what is this place?”

Hannibal smoothed his own hand down his face, over stubble and bandages alike, and studied Will closely.

“A safehouse,” he supplied eventually.

Will met Hannibal’s gaze only to break away as the word swirled around in his mind. There was no way the doctor had been preparing for a zombie apocalypse, so the reason for a safehouse could be explained by his previous status as a serial killer.

“Right,” the young man said dully. “Uhm, is there water?”

“Yes, in the well. We will have to be stingy, as you can guess,” another minute passed as Hannibal’s hand dragged over his face once more, briefly covering his eyes and lingering there. “Will, are you-”

“Fine,” Will said louder than he’d intended. “I’m fine. Can I wash myself?”

“Yes, follow me.”

Will had a moment of guilt as he let Winston in the entrance hall, and especially when he flicked off the light behind he and Hannibal. The dog paid it no mind, though, sniffling around the floor and sneezing once as dust filled his wet nose. Will stayed close to his friend, following the older man through the house with his hands uncertainly out at his sides to avoid walking into anything. He already determined that he wouldn’t be using the lights unless absolutely necessary.

“Here,” Hannibal said.

He flipped on the light in a spacious white-tiled bathroom, and then walked in to tug at the closed curtain that covered the combination bath and shower connected to the far wall. The room had a layer of dust as well, and it fluttered into the air at the movement.

“Bath or shower?” the doctor inquired.

“Shower,” Will answered, voice tired. “I won't take long.”

That went without saying. 

Hannibal stood straight after adjusting the taps and starting up the shower. The sound was foreign, and Will breathed in the smell kicked up by the falling water. Musty and hot.

“I’m going to check the pantry,” Hannibal said stiffly. “I will return with clean clothes for you and set them outside the door. Towels are in the cupboard there.”

He was out of the room in three long strides, once more leaving Will in his wake with the click of a closing door. Disquiet filled the younger man’s being immediately, as he remembered the formality in his friend’s tone. 

_Safehouse_ , Will reminded himself. Perhaps the man was preparing himself for Will to hate him once more for having been the Chesapeake Ripper.

Will sloppily undid his shirt and dropped it onto the ground, and then he stepped out of his pants and undergarments, shoes and socks, letting the former fall into the pile of other clothes, and setting the latter aside near the door. He tugged the curtain aside and slipped into the shower directly into the hot spray of water, and his echoing words of ‘I won't take long’ were now only half-truths. The water was incredible, stinging in its heat and hitting him in a deluge of relief as days-worth of grime and dirt and old sweat were wiped away. He scratched his fingers through his hair and along his scalp and sighed loudly.

He tried not to take long, truly, but it still took fifteen minutes to actually clean himself thoroughly. He scrubbed his body with the soap sitting in the dish on the small shelf within the shower, and used it to clean his hair since there were no bottles of shampoo present. Finally, he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, feeling mildly bad for dripping everywhere since he’d forgotten to set a towel out. He found several neatly folded ones in the cupboard, however, as he’d been told, and he wrapped himself in one of the large, fluffy towels gladly before scrubbing himself dry.

When he opened the door, he found a deep blue robe hanging off a hook outside of the bathroom, and the hallway was silent. The relief of being clean, feeling physically lighter as a result, filled him with the first bit of real joy he’d felt towards life in general -excluding the burgeoning situation developing between him and Hannibal. He quickly slipped from towel and into robe, back-tracked to flick off the bathroom light, and then padded bare-foot towards the soft sounds filtering in from a room nearby.

Hannibal was in the kitchen, bathed in dim light coming from the bulb above the stove. He had two bowls and two cans of what looked like soup on the island counter before him, and he looked ridiculous amongst the immaculateness of the kitchen. He was by far dirtier than Will had been, and the young man shuddered to think how he dealt with it.

“Hannibal,” he said as he walked closer.

“Will, how do you feel?” that formal tone once more.

“Much better, thank you.”

A pregnant, mutual pause. One of Will’s eyebrows twitched upwards when he noticed Hannibal avoiding his gaze.

“I’ll make the food, go shower,” Will tried to make his voice sound assertive but it came out tired and vexed instead -still, he hoped it would be enough.

Hannibal tilted his head towards the younger man, eyes fixed on his own hands that came to rest upon the counter as he leaned heavily forward. He huffed out a breath through his nose, a sound similar to a snort, and then stood up straight.

“You need to rest, Will,” he insisted. “You appear as if you’re ready to fall over.”

“Will you catch me if I do?” Will challenged.

The doctor’s face was expressionless. Will tilted his own head and contemplated the man before him. 

“I will,” his friend said clearly.

Will’s heart lightened a bit at that, even though Hannibal was still visibly bothered by their previous exchange -at least Will assumed that was the cause. He stepped further into the room and only stopped when he could lean on the other side of the island counter, and when he did he found himself in the rare position of seeking out Hannibal’s eyes rather than the other way around.

“Hannibal, what’s going on?” he asked despite the instinct that suggested he shouldn’t, at least not yet.

“I will go bathe and see to my wounds,” the doctor announced. “I want you to sit down and relax, and then I will return to finish preparing food.”

And the man was gone, like a shadow, swift and silent. Will fought the urge to turn and follow his friend, and he leaned on the counter for a long time attempting to make sense of their situation. The pain from earlier returned and throbbed in his skull in time to the beat of his heart. 

_Can’t I just lie down and sleep for a year?_ , he winced and leaned forward even more, until he more or less lay on it, cheek pressed onto the cool surface, hands resting on either side of his head.

The sound of the shower switching on jolted him out of his haze, and he dragged himself into a standing position once more and circled the counter. He found a steel can-opener and wiped it down with a cloth that lay neatly folded near the bowls, both of which were gleaming with intricate designs. The soup was a brand he didn’t recognize. He turned a dial halfway and then sought and found a pot, which he set on the warming burner. Next, he struggled to open the cans, his fingers unable to coordinate well in his pained and tired state.

When Hannibal returned, he wore a robe as well. It was pristine white and hugged his body close. The bandages had been removed from his face. His pale brow rose at the sight of Will ladling soup into the bowls.

“I told you to rest,” he sighed long and loud and walked over to where Will had previously stood, situating the counter between them again.

“And I told you I would make the food while you showered,” Will attempted not to notice the raw and blistered skin adorning the other's face, and the eye that remained glued shut with the scabbing cut.

He echoed the raised-brow expression on Hannibal’s face, lips twitching into a tiny smirk. The older man seemed to consider Will for a long time before he bared his teeth in a smile.

“Thank you, Will,” he said.

They retrieved their bowls and made the short walk to the huge mahogany dining table to the right of the sprawling kitchen. The house appeared to be very spread out, each section combining purposes, such as the living room had, branching off of the entryway even though Will had barely glimpsed it. The kitchen was similar, with the dining room connected to it with only a change from linoleum to hardwood. They pulled out two chairs and sat across from each other.

“How much food do you have?” Will asked. His blue eyes regarded Hannibal over the short distance, narrowed slightly: he could still feel the tension between them as if it were a physical force. “And is it all soup?”

Hannibal chuckled, and then answered, “Enough, for now. And no.”

“How much is enough?”

“There is no need to worry about it presently.”

Will blew air onto his first spoonful of soup, and then he closed his lips around the utensil and nearly moaned at the rich, chicken flavor of the soup. It had some kind of seasoning as well. He downed another mouthful, and then noticed with surprise that his dogs had all wandered toward the smell of food.

“Hey, guys and gals,” he greeted his pack, and then spoke to Hannibal. “I should have fed them first.”

“What have you got for dog food?” the man asked after he swallowed the last of his soup and set the spoon down into the bowl.

“A bit of kibble left, but not much.”

The younger man frowned. Another pang of guilt threaded through his heart as he met identical gazes of interest from his canine friends, eyes dark in the dim lighting and ears perked excitedly. Tails wagged here and there as the animals waited patiently for their own meal.

“I will prepare them food from the pantry. There is canned meat,” Hannibal stood and walked away, disappearing through an archway that Will had previously not noticed.

He peered into his own bowl at the remnants of his soup and fought to contain a yawn. When Shelly set her muzzle onto his thigh and blinked up at him, he smiled and scratched affectionately behind one ear.

“Just a bit longer,” he soothed.

He hoped she found comfort in his words, because he didn’t. His head hurt far too much.


	28. A New Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why are you different?” Will asked, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.
> 
> Hannibal tilted his head until the blistered skin became visible in a line of light. His hand, still poised in the air, dropped to his side.
> 
> “Will, I want you to rest,” he said softly. “Tomorrow, we will speak of this.”
> 
> Head pounding and ears ringing, the young man could feel his resolve crumbling gently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 Getting back into the swing of things!
> 
> Not beta read~

Day Unknown

Hannibal vigorously mixed food into a large mixing bowl, and then doled out portions of his concoction into a few metal dishes. Will stood to help, and together they set them a few inches apart on the floor, near the sliding door that broke off from the kitchen-dining room and onto a deck pale in the moonlight. Will snapped his fingers, and a wave of furry bodies surrounded him, anxious to consume the wet food.

“Thank you,” Will’s voice was soft.

The doctor inclined his head before padding back over to the counter to clean up after himself. Water switched on and then off, and the mixing bowl was scrubbed and returned to its home in a cupboard. He could feel the young man’s gaze on his back like a weight on his shoulders, and after several seconds of silence, he finally faced Will Graham.

“We should rest,” he said, voice leaving no room for argument.

Still, he could see the beginnings of one in Will’s stubborn blue eyes. He raised a hand when the younger man opened his mouth to protest.

“We both need to sleep. Let me get you some advil first, however.”

Hannibal took his time retrieving the little bottle from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and when he returned to the kitchen, he found Will standing exactly where he had left him. He appeared dazed and lost and in pain but unwilling to admit to any of it. He accepted the bottle wordlessly, as well as the glass of water the older man poured and handed to him.

“Drink all of the water, if you will,” Hannibal commanded softly. 

He waited for his friend to obey. The air veritably reeked of the stench of sickness, rolling off of Will in waves along with the smell of sweat soaking the back of his neck and keeping his hair damp. 

“Will,” he sighed. “Please.”

Will hadn’t moved other than to gaze down at his hands. At the quiet words, he frowned at Hannibal, who tried not to take the expression as a figurative slap to the face. He understood that Will was most likely confused, certainly left to wonder -Hannibal couldn’t help the distance he’d put between them in the short time that they’d been here, though. And it was frustrating to note that he wasn’t entirely sure why he was doing so in the first place.

“Fine,” Will popped open the bottle of advil and shook out some pills after setting the glass of water aside. 

Hannibal watched while Will tilted his head and took in a gulp of water to wash them down his throat, and he remained there until the glass had been emptied. Then he gestured for Will to follow him.

“The stove light,” Will said, voice raised as if in protest as he set the glass on the island counter.

“Leave it,” Hannibal walked away. “I’ll return and tend to it.”

The only thing that mattered to him was getting Will under the covers and settled comfortably in bed. It had more to do with the selfish desire to have time to himself, to think and compartmentalize and attempt to solve another of the issues that seemed to continuously rise between them. He also didn’t want Will to hover while he secured the perimeter of the building. 

He couldn’t rest until he could be certain they were both completely safe.

****

Will waited in the doorway of the bedroom and watched his friend shake out the dust from the duvet on the queen-sized bed. A tiny, stylish lamp had been turned on, but it was still difficult to see clearly in the room that they would be sharing -and there was no doubt that they would be sharing it indeed. Hannibal made the point in the way he folded the duvet back, along with the sheets beneath, on both sides of the mattress. When he stood and faced Will, the injured part of his face was shadowed ominously.

“Come here,” Hannibal said.

 _Sometimes I wonder if he’s a monster. A true one. No humanity left but the skin hiding his bones_.

The feeling in his stomach expanded up into his chest and then his throat, until there was a sizeable lump there that grew difficult to swallow around. Hannibal held one arm out, hand raised towards the ceiling with his palm up, beckoning. Red flags rose in Will’s mind.

“Why are you different?” Will asked, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

Hannibal tilted his head until the blistered skin became visible in a line of light. His hand, still poised in the air, dropped to his side.

“Will, I want you to rest,” he said softly. “Tomorrow, we will speak of this.”

Head pounding and ears ringing, the young man could feel his resolve crumbling gently. He glanced at the bed, large and waiting to be curled up on. He twitched his gaze once more to Hannibal’s face, and then exhaled through his nose loudly.

“I’ll sleep, but tomorrow we _are_ talking about this,” he stated. “And you’re sleeping too.”

“Of course,” the doctor nodded his head in a genteel fashion.

When he finally lay on the mattress, shoving his legs under the sheets and reclining to rest his head on a fluffy pillow, Will had to agree that talking should be postponed. He barely refrained from moaning at the soft warmth of everything, as if a cloud had surrounded him on a sunny day. The duvet was settled onto his chest so gently that the remnants of his uncertainty faded -for now. Comfort and safety, however brief, dragged him under almost immediately.

Before his eyes shut completely, he studied the man looming over him, having circled the bed to stand at his side.

“Promise me something,” he whispered.

Hannibal bent at the waist to hear him better, and set one large hand on the pillow next to his head.

“Anything,” he murmured.

Will regarded the intensity in his expression sleepily. One tired arm flopped out of the blanket and reached forward so that he could sink his fingers into still-damp strands of hair. Hannibal’s stony face softened minutely at the gesture, and he waited patiently for Will to speak.

“Promise me you’ll be in this bed when I wake up,” the young man said.

“I promise you, Will.”

The response came without hesitation, and with a tone that Will would be alarmed by had he the energy.

 _He sounds angry_.

He fell asleep before his hand had fallen away to slap quietly onto the duvet.

****

When he returned to the bedroom, the generator off and silent and the lights put out, as well as the outside searched as thoroughly as he could manage, Will had curled into a tight ball in the center of the mattress. His robe had slipped open and bared his sparsely-haired chest, and one of his arms lay spread over the pillow that Hannibal had intended as his own. 

The sight of his friend safe and comfortable and in easeful sleep soothed the parts within him that were in uproar. 

He stood trembling, no longer able to hide the pain and the exhaustion eating him away. His hands shook when reached up to part his own rope, slipping the belt out of its knot and letting all of it sink off of his body like a shimmering veil falling away to reveal him in his entirety.

Hannibal climbed into the bed and burrowed beneath the duvet and the sheets, and he gathered Will close, so close that there was nothing left of them _not_ touching in some way. The fabric of Will's robe rubbed against him and made him shut his eye tight, so tight it hurt almost as much as the other one did. He buried his nose into damp curls and breathed in the scent that was entirely Will.

His Will.

He opened his eye and beheld the beautiful creature in the dark. Even exhausted and sick and scruffy-faced, Will was gorgeous. And he would always be, because he was _Will _. And he would stay safe and alive and beautiful in Hannibal’s arms, no matter what.__

__Hannibal fell asleep clutching to Will bodily, shaking until he faded into a nightmare, the likes of which he hadn’t had in very many years._ _

__This time, his sister wasn’t the only one being dragged away from him. He screamed for the terrified man whose hair was clutched in meaty hands, whose slender body weighed no more than any of them in the harsh winter of starvation. He fell under the force of a vicious blow to the back of his head, and woke up._ _

__Will’s face nuzzled into his neck, and his even breath was almost enough to calm Hannibal down as it warmed his throat. He grasped the smaller man’s body close and quietly heaved a sob into the pillow._ _

__****_ _

__“What the hell,” Jimmy’s voice raised above the snores coming out of Brian, waking him and stirring the other occupants of the van._ _

__Jack met his gaze via the rear-view mirror as he commandeered the vehicle._ _

__“You see it too?” the big man asked._ _

__Beverly raised her head from where it had been leaning on Jimmy’s shoulder from his other side. It didn’t take her long to see what had the others confused and seeking answers._ _

__Outside, there were _hundreds_ of bodies, spread over miles and miles on or flanking the road that they meandered down. That wasn’t anything considerably new, of course, but it was the fact that they were all deaders that had them confused._ _

__“It’s like they all just fell over and didn’t get up,” Brian said sleepily, leaning against the glass of the window. “They’re not even injured. Well, more than they already were.”_ _

__“Come to think of it, we haven’t seen a zombie in quite a while, have we?” Beverly asked._ _

__Tone ponderous, she leaned against the glass too and watched as they drove on. The darkening sky finally prevented her from seeing many details, and she gave up eventually to sit back in her seat and shut her eyes._ _

__In the passenger seat up front, Bella was studiously silent, eyes fixated ahead of her and not once straying from the road that they were traveling on. She had no absolute clue if Hannibal had come this way -she just had faith, and her instincts prickled in warning, pointing her in a particular direction._ _

__“Bella,” Jack spoke so quietly she had to strain her ears. “You know we may never find them.”_ _

__“We have to try,” she said._ _

__“It’s better that we don’t.”_ _

__Jack knew that Hannibal Lecter had and always would be a dangerous man, more so than any of them could probably truly comprehend. He wanted to assume that Will had been coerced into following him. He had to live by that possibility, because he didn’t want to hurt Will._ _

__“We have to,” Bella insisted firmly._ _

__****_ _

__The little house was quiet, so quiet that every breeze that whistled through the cracks and age-weary walls grew to a pitch loud enough to wake the man from his slumber. He climbed out of bed, still in his overalls, and sunk his feet into his trusty boots. He grabbed his gun and left his house, and walked for an hour before he found a vehicle that had keys glittering on the dashboard._ _

__He smashed the window to unlock the car, climbed in, slammed the door and eased the right key into the ignition, and then drove. He drove for a very long time, face expressionless. At nightfall, he smiled and thought about Will Graham’s nice dogs._ _

__Charly didn’t have much left that he had to do in this world. He knew that things were changing again, though he wasn’t sure if it would be for the better or the worse. All that he focused on now was the itching certainty that his friend was in trouble or would be, and he couldn’t have that._ _

__Will was a very nice man._ _


	29. The Smell of Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal didn’t take notice of the tear tracking down his cheek until it landed on Will’s face, plopping onto the bridge of his nose and dripping down over lax lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, loves<3 I moved recently so still settling in :D
> 
> Not beta read~

Day Unknown

Will snapped awake with a shiver that ran from his curled toes to the tip of his nose. Sweat soaked his forehead and neck, and the inside of the robe that had fallen open as the sash untied itself in his sleep. He reflexively moved to get out of bed, to seek relief from the flame lighting him up from within his body and brain, and found that he couldn’t. Panic set in beneath the confusion and grogginess provided by his fever, his heart thrumming out of control. 

He gasped, head tossed back into the pillows, invisible hands clutching his throat and squeezing _so hard_. Tears pricked his eyes and he fought to free himself from the binds closing tighter and tighter around him-

“Will,” a voice cut through the sound of pouring water, an echoing spillage closing in around him from all directions quite suddenly.

 _I’m drowning I’m going to sink so far and never-_.

“Will, my love, be calm,” that voice again.

Hannibal.

It sounded like the man’s familiar, accented voice came from above the torrent of water drowning him. Too far and yet near, enough to hear but not enough to reach out and touch. Will sobbed once before everything abruptly faded to black.

****

Hannibal stroked a hand over his friend’s damp forehead, pulling it away with a quiet hiss. Will was burning up far too much and far too fast. He’d hoped the antibiotics that he had managed to get the younger man to take would have aided him a bit, but with how much they had been on the move, he wasn’t too surprised that the fever had returned. He sighed and got to his feet with a wince, body stiff and complaining. His stomach rumbled unpleasantly, enough that he considered visiting the bathroom first; in the end, he opted to make his way through the house, into dark rooms until he located their belongings.

Fishing the tiny bottle of pills out took longer than he figured it would. Eventually he found it, squinting at the label in the early morning light sneaking in through a nearby window. He returned to the room after retrieving a glass of water, setting both that and the bottle on the nightstand on Will’s side. The man hadn’t stirred, and his breathing was faint. 

“Will, I need you to wake up for me,” he crouched near the young man’s face, inhaling the scent of fever and sick and unable to stop his nose from wrinkling in displeasure. 

Will didn’t respond, the only movement being his chest moving up and down with shallow breaths and the restless back and forth of his eyes beneath shut lids. Hannibal grasped his shoulder, slipping under the robe to feel overheated skin, and shook his friend firmly. Still nothing.

“Wake up,” he demanded.

Hannibal had no words to describe the feeling that dropped through his chest and into his stomach like coins settling into a sac heavily. His heart’s pace picked up after skipping a long beat, and he blinked down at Will. He shook the smaller man harder, nostrils flaring and eyes blown wide with sudden fear. A grab for Will’s limp wrist was swift, and Hannibal checked a pulse that fluttered faintly and sluggishly.

“WILL!”

In the next moment, he was hauling the unconscious man into a sitting position, perching on the side of the bed and wrapping a strong arm around Will to support him. Soaked curls clung to a sweaty face that swung and landed on Hannibal’s shoulder, and still there was no response of any kind. Even his eyes ceased as his dreams or nightmares or both faded into nothingness to match the reality that he had been torn from.

Hannibal didn’t take notice of the tear tracking down his cheek until it landed on Will’s face, plopping onto the bridge of his nose and dripping down over lax lips.

****

_Will stood atop a cliff and peered down at a burned landscape. Everything as far as the eye could see had been charred beyond recognition. Even his own hands, his own body -it was ebony and crisp, threatening to scatter in a soft breeze. His hair had been the first to catch fire, burning away in a flame that crackled into being and then proceeded to engulf **everything**._

_The barren world around him began to shake, and Will cried out, blind and deaf but certain that his hands had just broken away._

_He threw himself off of the cliff with the last vestiges of strength he possessed, and then he was no more as the pressure of falling did him in. The ashes of his body sank slowly like shards of paper, flittering and disappearing into the blackness below._

****

He woke with a violent start. A sound at his side drew his attention before he had managed to remember his name, and he found Hannibal clutching his nose with a grimace on the features that could be seen around his fingers. Will gasped, disoriented.

“Hannibal?” he said. “I’m sorry, did I hit you?”

He must have, as it appeared that his friend had been seated at his side. Hannibal didn’t answer for what felt like a long minute, during which Will finally gained his bearings and ran a hand through his sweat-oiled hair. The room was lightened by the sun through the wide window behind the huge bed.

“Will…”, Hannibal finally spoke.

The older man’s voice sounded unsure and small, like a child that had been scolded. Will wiped at his face, at the sweat that had him feeling gross and craving an ice cold bath. The robe was likely a lost cause.

“Hey,” Will swallowed and then coughed at the dryness of his parched throat. “Hannibal, are you-”

He nearly yelled as he was tackled onto the bed, the world spinning as his head fell into the soft pillows once more. He threw his arms out in a panic, everything still slow and seemingly unreal in that moment. For half a second, he thought that the man was attacking him -and then Hannibal was holding onto him tightly, clinging desperately to his fevered body as if he intended to disappear. A nose pressed against his throat and inhaled deeply, and then dark eyes peered at Will quite suddenly. A large hand bracketed the side of his face.

“I thought I lost you,” Hannibal growled.

Will opened his mouth to respond and found it crushed by the other man’s lips, and he made a tiny sound of shock before Hannibal’s tongue delved passed his teeth to tangle with his own. The hand on his face moved to clutch loosely at his throat instead, fingers set resolutely along his pulse point. Heaving out a breath through his nose, Will shut his eyes tight and returned the kiss, unable to match the intensity but going along with it regardless. He disentangled his hands from the blanket and wrapped them around Hannibal’s strong neck as the man shifted the angle to devour his mouth more thoroughly. When he pulled away, they were both panting heavily.

“I don’t understand,” Will said breathily. “Lost me?”

Hannibal held his body off of Will with one hand as he stared down at him, both of their lips plump and red from kissing. His gaze danced over Will’s face, falling to his opened mouth briefly. Will finally noticed that the man’s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy.

“Wait,” he said, finally realizing what Hannibal had meant. “Did you- was I?”

“You wouldn’t respond,” Hannibal said hoarsely. “I feared that the fever had taken you.”

Will couldn’t figure out what to say. The world was blurry, other than the face in front of him. And maybe that was okay, for now. He embraced Hannibal closer, urging him to lower himself and lay atop him completely. The warmth didn’t bother him, and the weight above him made him feel safe and cared for. Hannibal’s cheek settled on his shoulder, and Will found himself stroking his fingers through the man’s thin hair.

“I won’t let it take me,” he whispered sleepily.

“Nor will I,” Hannibal returned.

They fell asleep clutched tight to each other.

****

Hannibal woke hours later and nuzzled into Will’s neck. His lips found the pulse point that now beat steadily, and he opened his eyes and took a sniff at the air. The fever had broken, for now.

“Will,” he tried, the residue of his fright from earlier lingering in his heart.

The man woke immediately, however, and blinked at him groggily. Such beauty, despite the illness. He longed to carry his charge into the bathroom and bathe him, wipe the sweat from every part of his body as he imagined soothing it all away with his willpower alone. Perhaps later he could coax the other into joining him in the tub. For now, he forced himself to sit up and climb off of the smaller man, yearning to return to his embrace the second his feet his the floor.

“Up,” he directed. “You must drink.”

Will sat up obediently, and despite his command, Hannibal assisted his friend, puffing up the pillows and setting them up around him to cushion him. He reached for the bottle and shook out two pills, offered them to the sleepy man, and then gave him the glass of water.

“Drink it all,” he said.

His eyes watched Will like a hawk, missing not a second of the man swallowing each pill with a gulp of water. Will drained the rest of the lukewarm liquid gratefully, and then he rested against the headboard with a loud sigh. 

“I had a dream that I became nothing,” he said. “I had no eyes or ears or a mouth to scream with.”

Hannibal paused as he reached for the emptied glass. Will’s eyes had shut as he spoke, and his brows were furrowed. 

“Sometimes our dreams are rather direct,” Hannibal said eventually.

“Apparently. My brain is frying in reality, and everything else is following along when I sleep,” Will opened one eye to peek out at him. “I don’t feel so bad right now.”

“The fever broke as we slept,” Hannibal supplied. “Still, I suggest you continue to rest here.”

“What are you going to do?” both blue eyes studied him now. “You’re not exactly in the best of shape either.”

“So you are correct, but my brain is currently fine,” _as fine as it will ever be_ , he wants to joke.

“Touche.”

Will didn’t put up any sort of protest, however. He snuggled down into the bed once more, pulling the blankets around him and tucking his arms above them. He didn’t take his eyes off of Hannibal once.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he whispered. “We still have to talk.”

In the wake of that morning’s near-terror, Hannibal had entirely forgotten about it all. Nothing could invade the bubble of wary relief that surrounded him, filling his body just as Will’s scent and presence did, until he was glutted on everything that had to do with his friend being alive and as well as he could manage to keep him. The uncertainty stirring beneath his breast had faded in the light of it all.

“Later,” Hannibal said anyway. “I will return with food and water. Try to sleep, my love.”

First, though, Hannibal dressed in slacks and a white shirt from his walk-in closet. He rolled up the sleeves and walked out, and was briefly stunned by the sight of Will already returned to a deep sleep. Such beauty lying in slumber, curls drying on his forehead, lips parted to make way for soft breaths. The robe was yet opened, and Hannibal circled the bed and sat on the edge once more, gentle as can be.

One hand spanned a large portion of that chest, sparse hairs tickling his palm. He could feel the heat of Will’s skin seeping into his own from the point of contact.

One twitch of his hand brought it to rest above a beating heart.

It was strong.


	30. 5-4-3-2-1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal's face was as carefully arranged as it always was, but his eyes harbored a storm of emotions held in check. Will longed to open the dam, knock down the wall erected between them, and embrace his friend until death came along to part them. Instead, he watched helplessly as Hannibal strode away after offering a curt nod. He began to eat mechanically, eyes not leaving the doorway that the doctor had disappeared through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the wait T_T Once more... Life is hectic, but I will NEVER let this story go =) I have a tentative plan for 10 or more chapters still to go, so there is plenty more to be offered! It may be sporadic, but it will never be on hiatus or abandoned.
> 
> Thank you all for your patience! Your kind words and kudos and just you reading- It makes my day =)
> 
> There's a bit of a surprise in this chapter, by the way. Or more....something that has been a long time coming LOL!
> 
> Not beta read! Sorry for any mistakes, most of this was written on my phone~

Day Unknown

They never found Hannibal Lecter, neither for vengeance, that which fueled Bella, nor for peace of mind regarding Will Graham.

They did find Charly, though. Or rather, he found them.

The fire burned high, gathered in a triangle of dry wood. They were gathered behind an old stone wall, spread around the warm flame. Beverly had fallen asleep an hour ago, curled up on a pile of dirty clothes, and on either side of her were Jimmy and Brian. Jack sat on a large stone, knees open and bracketing his wife, who sat with him with her head tiredly resting on one of his thighs.

Jack stroked a hand through thick hair, looking down at the back of Bella’s head with his heart thumping hard.

He’d lost track of how many days had passed since they turned around and traced their steps in an effort to locate the missing men. Sunrise and sunset was no longer a way to measure the days -they bled into each other too completely, until time was just a blur and any purpose, imagined or otherwise, became unimportant. Even Bella grew less adamant each day, as they drove through emptiness and silence.

That night they’d eaten the last of their rations, minus Beverly, who’d waved a hand dismissively at the can of food being passed around. Her whispered ‘no point’ had fallen on selectively deaf ears.

When the flames began to eat the kindle into char, and when the flickering fingers reaching for the sky began to falter, a twig snapped from the other side of the wall. Jack launched himself to his feet after extricating himself from Bella, hefting a crowbar. Even if their purpose became questionable in a dead world, he wasn’t a man to just give up, afterall. A lumbering shadow rounded the wall steadily, seconds later, prompting the others to stand tensely.

“Speak!” Jack commanded.

The figure paused on the edge of the fire’s radius, face cast in shadows. A moment later, a shotgun was tossed onto the ground, and then a familiar face ducked into sight.

“Hello,” Charly greeted, tone even. “I don’t remember your name, I’m sorry.”

Jack lowered the crowbar and narrowed his eyes at the large figure, recalling their brief encounter back in town. Charly was hard to read, even when it came down to the fact that Jack’s previous life had revolved around being able to figure people out. At the time, he hadn’t given serious thought to the fact that Charly may have been protecting Will and Hannibal, though it had crossed his mind just as any possibility often did.

Either way, he didn’t trust the man.

“I’m Jack,” he said after a long pause.

“Jack,” Charly repeated. “Hello, Jack. Hello, everyone.”

The others exchanged glances uncertainly, and Bella blinked tiredly as the situation had proven not to be any threat. Charly blinked at the silence that followed his greeting, and then shrugged visibly before he sat on the ground, right where he stood.

“I have been searching for you,” he explained, crossing his legs.

****

Will stepped out of the shower and reached for the towel nearby. Weakness gnawed at him, energy drained from his body by the persisting fever. When he had woken up this morning, the room hadn’t spun, so he counted that as a victory, but he was yet far from healthy. And as a result, Hannibal hovered close at hand, even more so now, and it was beginning to irk the younger man: almost as if to demonstrate, Hannibal strode into the bathroom, likely taking the shower turning off as his cue, and large hands snatched up the towel just as Will’s fingers had been reaching to clasp it. The doctor shook it out and then moved close to begin drying Will’s body, rubbing the water gently from his skin.

“I can dry myself, Hannibal,” Will protested faintly.

“You can also fall,” the taller man replied in a clipped tone. “Come.” 

Hannibal gave him a moment to dress, and then lead him to the den, where he assisted the younger man in sitting. Will had the urge to roll his eyes heavenward at being treated like a precious stone -and then he caught the barest glimpse of worry turning brown eyes bright, amber shade gleaming with emotion.

Since they had arrived, the doctor had seemed both parts cut off and impossibly involved, taking care of his sick friend and at the same time seeking to add bricks to a wall that he had begun to build inexorably higher. Will inwardly cursed himself for not having broached the subject more adamantly.

“Hannibal,” he said softly, voice petering off with a tired yawn.

“Rest here, I will prepare dinner in the meantime,” Hannibal informed him. He ticked Will in, lifting his legs from the floor and arranging him on his back. “Sleep, if you can.”

“That's all I've been doing,” the younger man groused.

Even so, he didn't put up a fight despite wanting to remain lucid. The comfort and warmth of the chaise had his brain stumbling over itself, and soon his eyes drifted shut. When he woke, it was to the scent of something sweet -nearly heavenly-, and the sight of Hannibal leaning over him with concern in his eyes. Too tired to feel irked, he allowed his friend to maneuver him into a sitting position, and then a large tray of food was set in his lap.

“Eat,” was the command that followed.

Will blinked at the various small bowls adorning the tray. The closest was filled to the brim with what he assumed had been canned fruit, the juice sloshing over the side just slightly before settling. The other bowls had soup, chicken noodle in one and tomato in the other. Four rounded saltine crackers sat one atop the other in the center of the bowls, all of which were arranged into a triangle. 

“What about you?” Will asked, eying the little feast.

“I require less, and shall wait until later at any rate.”

Blue eyes sought out the familiar, albeit bandaged, features. Hannibal's face was as carefully arranged as it always was, but his eyes harbored a storm of emotions held in check. Will longed to open the dam, knock down the wall erected between them, and embrace his friend until death came along to part them. Instead, he watched helplessly as Hannibal strode away after offering a curt nod. He began to eat mechanically, eyes not leaving the doorway that the doctor had disappeared through.

****

Hannibal leaned on the kitchen counter and let a shudder wrack his body. His heart, now unfamiliar, had emotions stirred into a whirlpool where once they had been strictly controlled. He couldn't bear to keep Will in his sight in this moment, although leaving the den had done nothing to remedy the vision that waited behind closed eyes. It seemed his younger friend followed him everywhere now, held in the deepest parts of his mind and body in remembrance and reverence. 

The distance lengthening between them as the hours crawled by had nothing and everything to do with Will; it was not his friend's fault that he found himself floundering after control, and then it _was_ his fault because he existed and Hannibal would do anything to keep him that way. Safe and alive and happy, that's what he had the mind to endeavor for. He knew that that was beyond his complete control, however. Until an otherworldly being intervened, he would do just that, though.

He straightened and began to wash the dishes, images of Will weakened and withering behind his eyelids and causing his hands to move more harshly over cutlery than he intended.

Was this -dare he even think it, let alone consider it objectively- _love_?

Did that word truly encompass the feeling holding him at knife-point, shuddering through his very bones with quiet power? If love was madness, then perhaps so. Hannibal dried the dishes and then walked further into the house, brushing passed dogs sniffing curiously at the air. 

He found the mirror in the bathroom and considered his image in the unforgiving light.

_Where would we be right now, had the world not upended itself? ___

__The doctor shut his eyes on the reflection of exhaustion and injury, familiar with the tight, healing skin on his face but lacking the initiative to look at it in this moment. He felt weak, torn apart from the inside by his violently thumping heart. Loss of control echoed between each shuddering breath wracked from his body._ _

__What would Will say, if he told him that silence was easier than confessing his sins?_ _

__Hannibal snarled silently and then stalked out of the bathroom, suddenly craving the surety of his friend's presence. He found the younger man snug on the couch, tray discarded and emptied, and his face softened. Here was Will fast asleep sitting up, head canted against the cushion behind him. Hannibal moved closer reflexively and set his palm over a dry forehead, pleased that his temperature remained even. His heart, heavy, skipped a beat, and then he gave in and sat down, gathered Will into his arms and arranged him bodily until the smaller man’s legs rested on either side of his hips._ _

__“Hann…?” blurry eyes opened, a slit of watery blue regarding him sleepily._ _

__“Hush,” he purred into curls. “Sleep, Will.”_ _

__Weak arms encircled his neck, and Hannibal shut his eyes tight as his breath hitched. Will rested a cheek on his shoulder and burrowed closer, a few fingers tangling in the growing hair at the nape of the doctor’s neck. A moment passed, during which Hannibal was certain he would expire and fade away into nothingness, holding onto the creature in his arms tighter and tighter until a sleepy squeak of protest huffed into his throat._ _

___"Oh, Will," a whisper like a prayer._ _ _

__Lips smoothed across a tired brow, nose nuzzling into thick brown hair. Grip tightening with one arm thrown across Will’s back, Hannibal pulled his friend as close as possible, imagining that he could devour the younger man, or hold onto him so tight he would slip right into his ribcage, where he would lay safe for their remaining days. Will twitched, and then raised his head, and Hannibal realized far too late that he was crying, tears staining the bandage on his patched features. Seastorm eyes gained consciousness swiftly, and Will set a palm against his scruffy cheek._ _

__“What’s wrong?” he asked hoarsely, vision clearing as Hannibal barely contained a hiccough. “Hannibal, talk to me. Please?”_ _

__Instead, Hannibal tangled his free hand deep into brown hair, drew Will close, and took his mouth in fierce and longing kiss. Will gave what he got after a pause, debating a protest and then giving up entirely as they traded breath and saliva and tiny whispered confessions that the other could barely hear. Hannibal became aware of Will’s hands buried in his own hair, tugging at the thin strands and angling his head to his own desire. Their bodies pulsed and thrummed together fluidly, and the security of their hidden location lent to them both an aspect of bravery that hadn’t been there before._ _

__Will hissed as they pulled their mouths away, and he thrust his lower body into the one below. Hannibal nearly sobbed at the perfect warmth of his friend, trapping him on the couch now, and he stroked fingers between them to cup the warm, straining bulge nudging into his stomach insistently._ _

__“Oh fuck,” Will sobbed. “ _Hannibal_!”_ _

__Hannibal palmed Will’s cock through flimsy pajama pants, rubbed at the hardening flesh until the younger man growled and took his mouth in a devouring, conquering kiss. Fingers dragged from silver strands to a sharp jawline, and then loosely encircled Hannibal’s throat, thumbs swirling from the underside of a bearded chin and down to a bobbing adam’s apple. The older man returned the growl, tore away to bite at a swollen bottom lip, barely managing not to draw blood in a claiming snap of sharp canine teeth. He held the smaller man closer, so close he could feel the other’s cock in a hard line where it rested between them._ _

__“ _Will_ ,” he gasped breathlessly._ _

__Will released him and moved his head to meet his gaze, the rims of his eyes red and puffy with his own tears. Emotions churned deep within Hannibal, and with a proverbial snap, the wall was struck down. He threw Will onto the couch, climbed atop him, and pressed into him, his own interest heavy and hot. Long fingers returned to curly, dark hair._ _

__“Mine,” he whispered into parted lips._ _

__No protest followed. Hannibal kissed the lips awaiting him, heart pumping and attempting to climb its way into his throat._ _

__If this madness could be labeled love, Hannibal accepted it wholeheartedly in that instance -even at the expense of his own turmoil, at the loss of control. Will was worth it, was he not?_ _

___Yes._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titled inspired by Murder Song (54321) by AURORA. ♥
> 
> Sorry for the cliffhanger by the way...I promise it will be worth it for next chapter!!! =D
> 
> PS anon from last chapter, if you see this, please message me on tumblr if/when you feel up to it. I am truly sorry, and I would love to see to this situation for the both of us. Hugs.


	31. Amidst Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s quiet now,” he said, as if that explained everything. “It has been for a little while.”
> 
> “Quiet in what way?” Jack stared at him with curiosity and mild disbelief.
> 
> “In every way. The world is asleep now, except for a few of us. Even monsters are mortal, in the end.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is weird but I swear it has a point! I love Charly btw ♥
> 
> ALSO THE DOGS AREN'T FORGOTTEN, I SWEAR. The boys are just horny right now, that's all...!!!! :D
> 
> Not beta read ♥

Day Unknown

Will’s body snapped tight in a jolt, hips rolling involuntarily. Hannibal’s fingers dug into his hips hard enough to bruise, his lips closing around the younger man’s hard, swollen cock, taking in the tip and tonguing at it before swallowing the length down.

What had followed their initial passionate exploration -thorough kisses, wandering hands, growled fricatives and thrusting, searching bodies- had turned into heated debauchery. Hannibal, bigger, stronger, held Will down and licked and nipped and laid kisses along every inch of skin he could reach, often turning the smaller man’s body or limbs this way or that to accomplish his task. Will gave in, eventually, head thrown back into the chaise, handing himself over to his friend, lover, mate; in that moment it no longer mattered who they were to each other or who they had been.

In this moment they were inseparably close, physically and in all of the ways that either of them could imagine.

“Hann-” Will cut himself off, jaw snapping shut with a click, and his hands buried themselves into Hannibal’s hair, drawing through the silky strands and gripping tightly now and then as full lips devoured him.

His sensitive flesh was sucked down and swallowed against, a relentless attack that effortly took his breath away. He gasped, panting, and bent double over the other, hands scratching down Hannibal’s neck and shoulders -the older man grunted around his mouthful before clamping down once more, tongue flattening along the underside and teasing at the thick vein there. Will’s forehead dripped sweat from fever and exertion both, and his moans were scratchy and drawn out.

He thought about begging, realized he most likely wouldn’t be able to give voice to anything made of sense, and then settled for thrusting as much as he was permitted into the mouth between his legs, squeezing his thighs around a strong neck.

“Mine,” Hannibal repeated, drawing away and passing his tongue over his lips like a wild cat licking its chops.

“You- _Ahh! Hannibal_ ,” Will attempted to vocalize just how much he agreed, and found his breath stolen once more.

Hannibal closed his mouth over the head of his cock and hollowed his cheeks, sucking mercilessly and teasing the slit with the tip of his swirling tongue. Heat, far different than the fever’s clammy grasp, suffused Will’s entire form, a blush taking over his body much like the sensation of being submerged in a bath of hot water. The state of the world, whatever it may be now in the dead silence around their abode, no longer existed.

****

Hannibal squeezed his fingers into the bony hips beneath him harder -always harder, digging in enough that bruises would purple pale flesh hours later. He held the smaller man pinned to the chaise and simultaneously pulled him closer into his mouth, feeling like a starved animal offered the most decadent of feasts. Sucking Will’s cock was akin to the bliss he spent his life searching for. The doctor was far passed the point eloquence in that moment, however, too far gone in the action of slurping, sucking, licking, and devouring Will Graham in a way he doubted either of them could have predicted would happen before the world ended.

When Will came, Hannibal swallowed the gift given to him, the one that had the other man collapsed on the chaise panting and sighing loudly, hands tangled in his own curls as he attempted to catch his breath. 

“Will,” he beseeched, climbing up the supine form to lay atop him heavily.

He searched for lips opened, pink and glistening, begging for kisses that Hannibal gave without thought. He wrapped one arm under Will, clasping between his shoulderblades, and cupped the back of his head with his other hand as he opened the other’s mouth wide with his tongue, fat and wet and demanding. They both heaved in and out of their nostrils as the kiss deepened, before petering off into gentle suckles of lips and timid nibbles drawing from mouth to necks and ears. Hands wandered tirelessly.

“You?” Will managed between languid kisses that had him panting again, feverishly attempting to reach between their bodies.

Hannibal snatched a wrist and drew it above Will’s head, keeping his other arm secured beneath the smaller form. In response, he ground his pelvis forward firmly. Strong legs wrapped around his hips in response, the younger man sated and lax but wanting to please him, and that fact had Hannibal coming sooner than he was prepared for as he rutted like an animal against Will. Like everything else out of his control, he accepted it gracefully and grunted into the crux of Will’s neck and shoulder.

_My heart dances only for you, my love _, he didn’t say, demonstrating it instead with tired kisses along damp rosy flesh.__

__When he drew away, Will was sound asleep, mouth open wide, eyes skittering around in their sockets in dream already._ _

__“Will,” Hannibal softly whispered._ _

__He held tightly to the slumbering creature beneath him, holding vigil long into the night._ _

__****_ _

__Charly waved off the food passed his way._ _

__He sat closer to the group now, tentatively accepted into the circle, although by no means trusted. His shotgun had been seized by Jack not long after his appearance. He looked at each of the people around him in turn, politely and full of honesty, but to most of them he knew he appeared rather unnerving. He softened his face as much as he could manage and smiled at them all._ _

__“There are no more monsters,” he said._ _

__Confused stares answered him, along with silence._ _

__Charly didn’t often know why he _knew_ things, it just happened. Sometimes his old lady would get frightened by his intuition, accepting it only after she realized that her love for him mattered a hell of a lot more than her parent’s old fashioned suspicion. He could remember sitting down for dinner with his in-laws and commenting about the storm he was certain would hit, warning Mister Hendersen preemptively (red-faced anger and embarrassment the next day at not having taken him for his word had his daughter rolling her eyes and his wife tittering behind her hand, albeit nervously.)_ _

__Charly smiled at the memory. He found one of the ladies gazing at him intently from where she sat across from him, the fire crackling between them._ _

__“Are you talking about the zombies?” she asked._ _

__She sounded intense, yet exhausted. Her face had patches of dirt smudged into it, and her clothes were tattered. Her mass of black hair fell around her face ragged and greasy and unkempt._ _

__“I always thought that was a silly name for something so terrifying,” one of the men beside her commented. “It doesn’t sound intimidating at all, honestly.”_ _

__“Shut up, Jimmy,” the other man hissed quietly._ _

__“What? Come on, zombie? It almost rhymes with Bambi, for goodness’ sake!”_ _

__“That’s just ridiculous,” a shake of a head had a mess of black hair flopping around._ _

__The two continued to bicker, and Charly smiled once more. Despite the state of everything, humans would always prove to be resilient in more ways than a person could imagine. The gentle back and forth had him remembering the company he had watched over, those two men who had appeared to him in a time where he had truly been alone._ _

__“Enough,” Jack cut in curtly. “What they’re goddamn called makes no difference. What do you mean, Charly?”_ _

__Charly admired Jack a lot. He could see the grudging acceptance within him, despite his suspicions back in the little town. He wanted to tell the big man that he was correct, that he had housed Hannibal and Will knowingly: he wanted to tell him everything, if it would make him feel better. But he learned quickly why this group had been looking for them, those two strange men who had dwelt in that little shack that he had once called home._ _

__He recalled sick-pale skin and a sopping wet brow under soaked brown curls, and felt a quiet protectiveness within him._ _

__“It’s quiet now,” he said, as if that explained everything. “It has been for a little while.”_ _

__“Quiet in what way?” Jack stared at him with curiosity and mild disbelief._ _

__“In every way. The world is asleep now, except for a few of us. Even monsters are mortal, in the end.”_ _

__Silence and shifting eyes met his words. Charly had a brief moment of frustration at not being able to share the feeling that thrummed in his veins and beat around his skull. Certainty like no other filled his every cell, familiar and comforting, a sensation that he fought to explain his entire life before merely accepting it and allowing others to come along at their own pace._ _

__“The ‘zombies’,” he said._ _

__“What about them?” the woman across from him was frowning at him, a tic in one eye causing it to twitch at the corner as her irritation got the better of her._ _

__Charly, used to that expression and the emotion it hid, smiled at her._ _

__“They’re gone now.”_ _

__Forest sounds echoed around their small circle. Flames continued to snap and sing to the heavens, and the other woman, sitting close to Jack, stood and walked away. She disappeared behind the wall, and a heartbeat passed before the big man stood and followed her. Furious whispers sounded seconds later, though the words were not possible to make sense of._ _

__“You sound like you know this is a fact,” the man, Jimmy, said._ _

__While he was obviously sceptical, he was also hopeful. Charly was familiar with that as well._ _

__“What needed to be done has been done,” he said happily. “Now the world has been reborn, and we have to treat it right this time.”_ _

__****_ _

__Hannibal woke up wrapped around a pillow and not, he observed grumpily, Will’s body. He sat up and inhaled at the air, taking in musk and sweat and fever. He followed his nose into the kitchen, where soft morning light snuck through the window by the sink. Will stood there, still as an alabaster sculpture._ _

__“Will? Are you well?” he asked, sleep fading into sharpened concern._ _

__“Even if the others can’t find us,” Will spoke as if he were continuing a prior conversation. “What about the dead things? Why aren’t they all over this place. Lights and noise and life.”_ _

__“The forest is thick, my love.”_ _

__Hannibal walked closer, until he stood directly behind Will. He boxed the smaller man in, setting his hands on either side of the younger man’s body and tapping long fingers on the countertop. He pressed flush along Will and scented his neck at the pulsepoint._ _

__“It feels different,” the other countered._ _

__“In what way?” Hannibal was curious, wondering what the spinning cogs in Will’s brain were revealing to him._ _

__He agreed either way. In their weakened state, they hadn’t been as aware as they should have been -still, something had been off. He only realized that fact now that Will had brought it to the forefront of his mind, which had hitherto been occupied by the aforementioned man._ _

__“Don’t know. Just does. In here,” Will set a hand over his heart._ _

__Hannibal covered Will’s hand with his own and brushed his lips behind the younger one’s ear._ _

__“That is enough for me,” he said._ _

__As far as the older man was concerned, none of that mattered now. What did was enfolded in his arms, warm and safe, alive and beautiful. He pressed closer, rolled his hips into Will’s rear as his lips trailed open-mouthed kisses from neck to shoulder._ _

__“It- it doesn’t bother you?” Will asked breathlessly._ _

__“Should it?”_ _

__Will didn’t answer. Instead, he turned in Hannibal’s arms and peered up at him, eyes wide and vulnerable. The doctor’s heart skipped a few beats, body physically affected by the sight before him. For a time, he drank in the beauty within his possession, and then he captured lips in a tender, searching kiss._ _

__“Maybe not,” Will sighed. “Maybe it doesn’t matter.”_ _

__“Only you,” he said quietly, so much so he doubted that even Will heard him._ _

__Hannibal hoped that he did._ _


	32. Tous Les Meme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's words from last night returned to him, and as he stood there, it occurred to him that it _was_ quiet. Far too quiet -no stirrings of small critters or even a breeze. He shut his eyes and listened to the nothingness, eventually coming to the realization that something must have happened, something else in this time of death and the unknown. 
> 
> Because even if they were secluded, Hannibal had no doubt that the zombies would have somehow found their way here, as inexorably as they did in Virginia. 
> 
> He inhaled the air, taking in the fresh scent of trees and decaying leaves. 
> 
> _Curious_ , he opened his eyes at the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I'm in hell lately, with this heat and stress taking over. I can't promise the next chapter will be long too quick, but I will try.
> 
> Love you all, and thank you for reading.
> 
> Not beta read. If you spot a mistake, let me know.

Day Unknown

Will barely managed to blink the sleep out of the corner of his eyes before Hannibal was on him, rolling him onto his stomach and flattening his larger body atop the younger man. Murmuring softly into his curls, the doctor pinned him there and began to thrust his morning-hardon against the cleft of Will’s ass. 

“G-good morning,” Will gasped out. His cheek pressed into the soft pillow and he sighed contentedly at the cool softness of it. “I take it you had a good sleep?”

Hannibal chuckled but didn’t answer, choosing to drag wet kisses along an already-damp neck. Will twitched his hips back into the body blanketing him, and was instantly rewarded with another thrust, this one more forceful than the other languid ones. A large hand snaked beneath him and palmed his hardening dick, easily slipping passed the waistband of his pants. 

“ _Oh god_ ,” Will couldn’t contain the moan that tore out of him, though to be fair he didn’t try very hard.

Everything had the hazy quality of a dream, even with his fever abating steadily. It was hard to accept -or believe- the fact that they were dry-humping each other in bed while around them the world was silent. He supposed the illusion of safety had taken hold in his subconscious; though he did still feel deep inside of him that _something_ was changing or had already. 

“Stay with me,” Hannibal growled suddenly and nipped at the shell of his ear.

Will flinched and returned his own growl, shoving into the body above him reflexively. The action appeared to unbalance Hannibal the slightest bit, and silence rang heavily over them both for a few seconds. Then, Hannibal roughly flipped Will onto his back, clutched his legs, and then slotted himself between them to rub his lower body into the one beneath him. He wasn’t gentle, and the friction quickly had them both panting. The older man nuzzled a willingly bared throat and then laved his tongue over a wildly thumping pulsepoint.

“Fuck,” the younger man hissed. 

He brought his arms around Hannibal’s back, pressing fingers into the knobs of his spine none too gently. His blue eyes squeezed shut as the heavier man rutted into him determinedly. One hand released its hold on his leg and dragged his light t-shirt upwards to palm and roll and pinch dusky nipples, the nubs quickly hardening under the attention. 

“I want you,” Hannibal said urgently. “Will, my _love_.”

Desperation was pretty on Hannibal. 

Will opened his eyes and locked onto a dark brown one already searching for his own, entirely uncaring of the unsightly bandages on the man’s handsome face. Electricity snapped between them, and Will suddenly whined loudly, body arching nearly violently as he came. Hannibal buried his face into his neck and thrust down into him again and again until he cried out. He squeezed the body in his arms almost tight enough to hurt.

“Jesus, did you- did we?” the younger man squirmed. “I didn’t even touch you.”

“It was enough, evidently,” Hannibal purred.

Indeed. Will sighed as the man released him and then moved away, getting out of the bed entirely and wandering out of the bedroom. The younger man came down from the high provided by his climax slowly, and when his heart had finished pounding along in excitement, his eyelids began to droop. He drifted into a dreamless sleep, out like a light by the time Hannibal returned to quietly clean him up.

****

As Will slept, Hannibal took care of the dogs, doling out food for each of them despite the instinct to save anything and everything for he and Will. He gave them water and then lead the pack out of the house to run around out front. He had been taking on this chore often lately, as the animals’ master recovered. He couldn’t say he minded entirely; it was somewhat peaceful to sit on the step and watch the creatures meander through the wild grass.

Winston pattered over and turned in a circle twice before flopping next to him. His head came to rest on Hannibal’s thigh before the man realized what was happening.

“Hello, Winston,” he said as brown eyes flitted towards his face and then away.

The canine’s eyebrows twitched a few times before the dog shut his eyes and huffed out a breath that sounded almost like a sigh.

“Indeed,” the doctor said. It seemed ridiculous to talk to a dog -Hannibal banished the thought, however: he was beginning to slowly understand the charm that Will saw in the pack of beasts.

They both watched the others prance about and relieve themselves, before eventually Hannibal corralled them into the house once more. He shut the front door on his way back out of the house, and then strode off to the side, circling the house and making his way to the generator. He didn’t turn it on immediately, opting instead to set his hand upon the surface of it. Will's words from last night returned to him, and as he stood there, it occurred to him that it _was_ quiet. Far too quiet -no stirrings of small critters or even a breeze. He shut his eyes and listened to the nothingness, eventually coming to the realization that something must have happened, something else in this time of death and the unknown. 

Because even if they were secluded, Hannibal had no doubt that the zombies would have somehow found their way here, as inexorably as they did in Virginia. 

He inhaled the air, taking in the fresh scent of trees and decaying leaves. 

_Curious_ , he opened his eyes at the thought.

He revved the generator into life finally, and as he walked away, he listened to the loud sound rumbling behind him with a sense of foreboding.

****

Jack buried his head into his hands and nearly wept, the strain of the last however many weeks finally climbing onto his shoulders and attempting to force him to his knees. He was out of sight of the camp for the most part, though at the angle he stood at, he could still see his wife laying on the ground. Her face was pale and sallow, and sweat dotted her brow. The others were murmuring amongst themselves quietly, minus Charly, who had thumped off an hour ago claiming that there was food nearby. They had let him go, not paying mind to his mumbled ‘I will come back soon.’ Truthfully, each of them had begun to slowly devolve into a state of uncaring. Beverly hadn’t even left her spot in hours, though she did respond to Jimmy and Brian here and there.

They were collectively giving up, he knew.

What had seemed important no longer was, even finding Will and Hannibal. Bella still had a wild look to her eyes at the mentioning of their names, but even she had let the matter drop entirely at this point. Jack forced the emotion attempting to crack him into pieces away, returned it all to its little box and locked it before throwing away the key. He couldn’t afford to let them turn him into an unmoving, unfeeling thing.

Jack made his way to his wife’s form and sat on the ground with a grunt. He didn’t touch her, despite wanting nothing more than to hold her to his heart.

“ _Just stop_ ,” she had said earlier as she pushed him away with her face arranged into blankness.

His heart skipped a beat every other thump, and his stomach ached unpleasantly.

Charly chose that moment to return, hauling behind him the body of a doe. Its neck had been twisted, snapped cleanly it appeared. Jack blinked but remained seated on the ground, even as the big guy started to skin the deer effortlessly. And that night, they all ate well, the meat roasted over the fire and divied out with more than enough for each of them. The meal had their spirits rising, particularly Beverly, who began to crack jokes as she used to. Her and Jimmy began to regale them all with a story about Brian, one that was decidedly embarrassing. Brian rolled his eyes but joined their laughter just as enthusiastically.

Bella sat next to Jack and ate ravenously and silently. She didn’t join in with the others, nor did Jack, although inside he did feel lifted. It didn’t last long, however, as he instinctively covered his wife’s free hand with his own. She snatched her own away and side-eyed him with an ire that he couldn’t handle being directed at him. 

“Bella,” he said quietly, so that only she could hear. “Please.”

“Don’t,” she deadpanned.

Jack shut his eyes and set his unfinished food aside. Charly met his gaze from across the fire, as the clearing they were occupying began to darken slowly. There was knowing into those wide, expressive eyes. Too much of it.

Jack looked away from him and his wife and regretted eating the food that now rolled around in his guts unpleasantly.

****

Will lay on the floor when Hannibal walked in, and he could sense the other man’s pause. The dogs that piled on and around him didn’t bother to look up, relaxed as they were. Winston’s tail did begin to wag lazily, Will did notice though. 

“You’ll send me to my death, you salacious creature,” the doctor said loudly.

The young man snickered and then sat up. He wore only a pair of short boxers, and he looked up into eyes that were black with interest and hunger. Hannibal himself wore a loose, unbuttoned shirt and navy blue slacks, and his feet were bare. 

“It feels nice,” Will explained. “Lying on the floor I mean. My body doesn’t feel like it’s attempting to combust.”

“I had hoped your fever would be gone entirely by now,” Hannibal confessed.

Will smiled as sharp features sank into concern. He crossed his legs and tilted his head, saying; “It’s getting there. It fucks off for most of the day and then comes back as I sleep.”

“Indeed,” the older man strode closer and Will smirked, having caught the twitch of one eye as he swore. 

Hannibal surprised him by plopping onto the floor next to him, pressing close and uncaring of the dogs around him. He merely made his home with them there in the den and then nuzzled at Will’s throat.

“You are growing stronger,” he remarked. “Soon you will be healthy.”

“And you?” Will lightly stroked two fingers over the bandages on the man’s face.

“It will scar, and rather badly I suspect,” the man said as he leaned into Will’s touch. “But it is nothing to be concerned about otherwise.”

“You’re still going to be atrociously handsome,” Will grinned.

“Will I?”

The easy, flirtatious chatter faded into silence as they embraced each other. Eventually, they both lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling or at each other. Will’s chest was tight with emotion, and it swelled every time Hannibal looked at him with naked love in his eyes.

What did it say about him, to be more surprised at seeing that than he had been when the world had upended itself?

He wondered at that for a very long time as their legs tangled and their lips met languidly. Hours passed as they lay on the floor together, each unmindful of the dogs seeking their attention and warmth; they were too completely enthralled with each other, unable to do much else other than to touch and kiss and sigh and breath each others’ breathe. They fell asleep right there, and though they would each regret it later, for now nothing was more peaceful than napping while tightly woven together.

Their hearts beat as one, and when night fell and they woke up with sore bodies and stiff muscles, still they clung to each other with a strength unseen and unfathomable.

 _Love is too simple a word,_ is Hannibal’s thought.

 _I’m his and he’s mine,_ is Will’s.


	33. Prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I’ll return within the hour,” the older man stated, and he placed a simple, chaste kiss on the corner of Will’s mouth._
> 
> Will set one hand on the glass, splaying his fingers and resting the palm on the cool surface. Shortly after, he set his forehead gently against the window as well, and he shut his eyes as he attempted to still his beating heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know these updates are few and far between, and I'm sorry<3 I wont give up, though! Thank you all for your patience. Much love ♥
> 
> (also there's a surprise in this chapter :D)
> 
> Not beta read!

Day Unknown

The young woman held the branch of the pine tree out of her father’s way, and the man grunted his thanks as he made his way into the clearing ahead. He dropped the heavy weight of a dead deer onto the ground, and then heaved a loud sigh.

“We can sleep here tonight,” he said eventually. “Let’s set up and then get this girl cleaned.”

“In the open?” wide blue eyes stared at him from where the teenager remained standing by the tree. 

“There’s nothing to hide from anymore.”

She wished she could believe her father. For the most part, she just couldn’t bear to fill herself with false hope. But a solid week had passed since their pair of captive zombies had simply dropped mid-walk, unmoving and for all intents and purpose appearing to be dead. _Actually_ dead. She fidgeted for a time, and then finally strode closer to her father.

“What if you’re wrong?” she persisted. 

“We’ll hear them a mile away, Abigail,” the stern tone of voice left no more room for argument. “Help me set up the tent.”

Abigail ducked her head in a submissive nod and stepped forward to assist her father.

****

As it was, they didn’t hear Hannibal coming from a mile away, though he had spotted them from farther with keen eyes, and before that his nose twitching at the scent of a campfire and the sizzling cooking meat. A shadow peering from behind a tree, he observed long into the afternoon, and then as the sun began to drop, he made his move. He stepped into the clearing bearing nothing but a knife tucked into the waistband of his pants, his head tilted curiously when the father jumped to his feet and hauled with him a hunting rifle.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, catching Hannibal in his sights.

“I’m hungry and lost,” Hannibal lied easily. He raised his hands slowly, palms forward in a gesture of surrender. “Might you share?”

“There’s not enough,” the man hissed.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes on the teenager perched on a log, half in the process of standing just then. Her impossibly wide eyes glittered in the firelight, and he saw her brows furrow at her father’s answer. The doctor had an inkling that she was about to protest, as there was clearly plenty of meat drying on a makeshift rack behind her.

“Go,” the man with the gun said. “Find your own food.”

His tone was enough to seal his fate, honestly. Others had done less to Hannibal in the past to earn his ire or his attention. From his observation, he had determined that they were father and daughter, and furthermore, that the young lady held a secret very close to her breast. He saw it in her eyes now, as their gazes met once more, something that her father noticed very quickly.

“Get your eyes off of my little girl,” the father spit loudly. “And get the fuck out of here before I pull this trigger.”

“Dad!” the teenager said loudly. “Just let-”

“Quiet, Abigail!”

She lapsed into silence immediately, eyes dancing away from Hannibal’s and to the fire before her. She stood fully now, ramrod straight with her shoulders tense beneath her ears. Hannibal glanced back at her father and almost growled at the insinuation that Hannibal was looking at Abigail with anything other than curiosity. He remained where he was despite the threat of the gun.

“Go,” the man repeated. “I will shoot you. Don’t think I won’t.”

A bravado that wasn’t false, despite the man’s shifty demeanor. Hannibal made himself appear weak and helpless, body easing into a lazy stance, eyes steadfastly on the ground. He sniffed at the air, taking in the admittedly lovely scent of of meat once more.

“Just a little, please?” he gestured at the food behind the small family. “I’ll leave then, I promise.”

The gun didn’t waver, instead a click was heard, and the man shifted his grip and raised the weapon higher until his sights were fixated between Hannibal’s eyes. Abigail heaved a noticeably loud breath, and then there was a glint of metal, the fire dancing off of the length of a long knife now clutched in her hand. She buried it deep into her father’s back after a swift step, and the man never saw it coming, so cowed did he believe his ‘little girl’ was. Hannibal strode forward and knocked the gun from the man’s grasp, an easy feat as he was panting and cursing and unsteady from the unexpected hit from behind. 

The doctor closed his hand around a throat twitching with too many words to say, and he squeezed his fingers hard. In seconds, the man was unconscious, and Hannibal let him fall gracelessly to the dirt ground.

“I expect you’ve been wanting to do that for a long while,” Hannibal said conversationally.

“You have no idea,” Abigail’s voice came out deeper, filled with an amount of hatred Hannibal had rarely witnessed in others. It reminded him of his own place devoted to that emotion, though he often refused to label it -that corridor of his memory palace had a little girl, younger than Abigail, at its core. “Who are you?”

“My name is Hannibal.”

“Abigail, though I’m sure you already know that.”

Hannibal grinned at the young woman before him. While she remained frightened, apparent in the way her body shook minutely, she chose to forgo that to appear brave or unconcerned that she had just helped subdue and likely murder her father. The man lay where Hannibal had dropped him, bleeding out inexorably.

****

Around midday, Will noticed that he barely felt weak. That day had started slowly, as he reclined in bed with Hannibal, the pair trading soft, suckling kisses and quiet words of comfort and affection. Eventually the older man had gained his feet and left to shower and clean his wounds, after venturing outside to power up the generator. Will could still hear it rumbling away, able to pin-point the sound now for the lack of any others, and with his mind clear and crisp and free of fever.

He closed the book he had only been absent-mindedly browsing, and walked over to a window, curtains drawn away to let in the light of the day. At that moment, a gathering of grey clouds took its time traveling over the sun, and it darkened for a time as Will took in the scenery once more, for perhaps the tenth time that day. Because, while Hannibal did return from his shower earlier, and while they did share breakfast together and rest in the den, an hour and a half ago the man had left the house to scout the perimeter of his property.

_“I’ll return within the hour,” the older man stated, and he placed a simple, chaste kiss on the corner of Will’s mouth._

Will set one hand on the glass, splaying his fingers and resting the palm on the cool surface. Shortly after, he set his forehead gently against the window as well, and he shut his eyes as he attempted to still his beating heart.

Calm now, the younger man returned to the chaise and lay on it, curled on his side snuggly. He shut his eyes and focused on the slowing thump of his pulse, and on the sensation of the soft cushion beneath him. He listened to the generator gargle on, losing himself in his focus until he drifted into a light doze. Before he fell into unconsciousness he smiled at the wet sensation of a friendly tongue lapping at his fingers, where they edged off of the chaise. 

He didn’t wake until the steady, monotonous comfort of the generator shut off abruptly, and he startled to his feet. He blinked at the darkness outside; the sun had gone entirely down.

Will jumped to his feet, startling Buster, who had curled up close at his feet while he slept. He soothed the dog quickly, apologizing for the shock, before he walked swiftly to the back door, passing through the quiet, dark house with some difficulty but determined to see that Hannibal was well. He was reaching for the knob when the door opened, admitting a girl with dark hair and bright eyes, and behind her stood Hannibal himself, appearing at first glance to be entirely okay, if even smug.

“Where the hell were you?” Will demanded, worry lifting his words loud. 

He stepped away as the stranger took another step into the house, and it was then that Hannibal flipped the light on, causing them all to squint for a short time at the sudden brightness.

“Will,” Hannibal’s voice was unbothered, free of pain -in fact, he sounded almost pleased. “I want you to meet Abigail. Abigail, this is Will.”

“Hi,” the teenager waved uncertainly at him, and Will forced his worry into the back of his mind for the moment.

“Hello,” he inclined his head.

An awkward silence passed between them, and inwardly Will itched to embrace Hannibal close, to feel for himself that he was unharmed. He couldn’t yet let go of the anger that made his body tight with tension, furious with the man for being so late, but he did set it aside. He took a step back into the house and gestured at the open space.

“Come on in,” he said, as if he owned the place and not Hannibal.

In a way, Will felt that he owned both. He chose to examine that thought later as well. Together, they made their way to the kitchen, where Hannibal made tea and poured them each a portion. They sat at the island on stools, minus Hannibal, who stood on the other side and sipped his drink quietly.

“There’s meat drying outside,” Hannibal explained. “I came upon Abigail here in the woods hunting a doe. She was unfortunately too weak to drag it to her camp.”

Will looked between the two of them and then sighed. Abigail was young, in her late teens if anything, and Will could either feel threatened by her presence, or accept it. He chose the latter and smiled at her weakly.

“You’re lucky that Hannibal found you,” he offered. “I can’t imagine what it was like being alone out there.”

Abigail looked away shyly and then shrugged.

“Sometimes you do what you have to,” she said simply.

****

Hannibal lit several candles and then made his way outside, where he let himself into the shed overgrown with weeds and creeping vines. Within, Abigail’s father Garret Jacob Hobbs lay strapped to a metal table. He flicked the light on and eyed the prone figure for a moment, and then flooded the small space with darkness once more. He shut the shed door and secured it with the metal bar installed on the door, and then he shut the generator off. He peered at the windows of his home and used the candlelight flickering softly as a guide to return to it, and to Will and their new guest Abigail.

He had no small amount of guilt settling in his gut at lying to Will about Abigail’s father’s existence. But he knew the younger man was yet ill, even if he was stronger. The fever would return tonight as it had the other nights, and Hannibal wanted to protect his fragile mindspace until he was stronger. Then, together -the three of them-, they would partake of the spoils of the true hunt.

Hannibal was certain that his dear Will would adjust quickly, and that faith had him smiling as he stepped into the house. Abigail and Will had settled in the den with the dogs, where the younger lady had exclaimed happily at the sight of so many canines. He looked between Will and the young woman and knew that the beasts would be the catalyst to them bonding quickly. He tampered down his own rising jealousy at the thought of sharing his lover, opting instead to take in the burgeoning smile on Will’s face at having another human there with them.

Hannibal met glittering blue eyes that raked over his body momentarily, and observed the pleasure already suffusing his dear friend. Pride replaced the jealousy easily, and he strode forward to join Will and their new friend in the warmth of the den. Night fell heavily around them.


	34. Seasons Are Dying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If I am the only one to see you wrecked as this, and often,” Hannibal said gruffly. “Then I believe I will be the happiest man for the rest of my days.”
> 
> Heat suffused Will’s cheeks in seconds as he caught the man’s gaze, both of their eyes black with animal craving. Even sated as he was, Will wanted more, more, _more_.
> 
> “Shut up,” Will said with his own growl, arms raising quickly. “Come here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may read weirdly, or perhaps badly, but I don't want to struggle with this chapter any longer. It took me a while to write between picking up so many shifts at work and growing slightly depressed. I'm feeling much better now and hoping to finish this story up soon<3 
> 
> Not beta read, sorry for any glaring mistakes<3

Day Unknown

Dawn found Will and Hannibal sprawled in their bed in the master bedroom. Late the previous evening, the doctor had shown Abigail to the spare room, where she gratefully nodded and closed the door firmly. He knew that she was adjusting to her new surroundings just as he and Will were to her being there. It must be quite different now, no longer under the thumb of a conniving, ruthlessly possessive father. He’d learned a lot about her in a short amount of time, and he knew that she belonged here rather than out there, alone.

He set his palm against Will’s jaw, cupping the curve of it, and marveled at his scruff, at the warm skin of his cheeks and at the very _aliveness_ of this beautiful man in general. He traced a path from neck to collarbone, and from there set his hand over an evenly beating heart. The younger man stirred from his slumber, blue eyes opening slightly to squint at him.

“Hi,” Will grumbled, voice hoarse.

“Hello, darling,” Hannibal didn't bother masking the smile that pulled at his lips - wide and impossibly pleased at being able to just lay here with Will.

“Ugh, you look way too happy for someone who hasn't slept yet.”

And it was true; sleep had evaded Hannibal, who opted to hold his friend close and keep an eye on the fever. Thankfully Will had barely suffered one at all, merely growing slightly lethargic and sweaty. Now, waking up, his gaze was as clear as it should be. Hannibal clasped the slighter man close and buried his face into his hair, inhaling quietly and then exhaling at his throat, where he worried the skin gently with his teeth.

“Mmmn,” Will murmured and loosely set one arm around Hannibal as well.

The scent of a half-asleep Will Graham, recovering from his illness, had many parts of Hannibal reawakening in the quiet morning light. Will realized this very quickly and chuckled, and they searched for each other’s mouth at the same time for a greeting kiss.

“We have a guest now,” Will whispered. “Well, of the non-canine variety at least.”

Hannibal ignored the comment and deepened the kiss, licking into a willing mouth and nipping at reddening lips. He quickly rolled atop the other, pinning Will’s wrists to the bed on either side of his head, and then proceeded to steal his breath, or at least to set it to hitching and hissing out in quiet groans. His knee rubbed between the younger man’s legs languidly, stirring interest there and causing Will to shudder pleasantly.

“You’ll just have to be quiet,” Hannibal finally responded.

He could feel Will’s smile against his mouth, and his heart skipped a beat. Truly there was nothing about his friend that Hannibal could find fault with in that moment. He released one wrist and dragged his fingers down, down, down to cup the bulge forming where his knee had just been, and Will cursed -not quietly, either.

“Shhhh,” Hannibal traced Will’s lips with his own.

He devoured as much of the other as he could, starved for the contact and the heat that had his heart racing, an undercurrent of electric energy fueling his need. Will arched into him, quickly wrapping his legs around the older man, and they rocked together there in the bed, a slow motion full of passion and rising desperation.

“Hannibal,” Will’s voice wavered. “Can we- do you want to-”

The younger man cut himself off, wrapping his arms tightly around Hannibal, who preened under the attention. The intimacy of the moment, coupled with Will’s clinging form, fed into the doctor, filling him up with pride for both himself and for his friend, who reciprocated his desire and fervency. _Will wanted him_ , and wasn’t that just beautiful?

“Will,” Hannibal growled and pulled away, gripped Will’s pajama pants at the waistband, and then tore them down his legs.

He tossed the garments over his shoulder and then returned to his place betwixt those strong thighs, the ones that quivered as they wrapped him up once more, securing him there. Still clothed, Hannibal thrust his lower body into the one below, burning for friction and yearning for more of those filthy, awfully gorgeous moans that forced themselves into his own mouth, because Hannibal ate each one up greedily. He claimed every inch of Will’s mouth, and wanted to do the same with his delightfully shaking form.

“Can we what?” Hannibal purred -he gave no time for answers despite his question, plunging his tongue back into the wet heat of Will’s mouth.

****

Will was beside himself. He shook with a frenzy unheard of and unfelt for as long as he could remember -perhaps he’d never experienced this at all. Hannibal Lecter… what could be said about a man that stirred his heart and blood into a whirlpool of heat and sexuality? Nothing of any true significance, because there was naught that could compare, and especially no words that could suffice. He tightened his grasp around broad shoulders and surged upwards, rutting against the older man’s body urgently. Their clothes were gone now, torn away with grunts and interrupted by a peppering of kisses that slowly trailed from mouths to necks to heaving breasts.

Hannibal growled and claimed Will’s skin with teeth and tongue, nipping and licking and bruising as gently as he could manage. Will wanted it harder, all of it, wanted those sharp teeth pressed so deep into his skin that he bled, wanted the marks that Hannibal no doubt craved to give him. He bucked his hips and relished the sound that rumbled up from his friend’s throat.

“Can we- please, Ha-” Will cut himself off once more with a high-pitched sound.

All thought left him, all knowledge of the present fleeing as Hannibal’s mouth closed around his cock, swallowing him down heedless of the breath trapped in Will’s lungs that _would_ come out, guest or no. Strong hands held him down firmly, trapping him there at the mercy of a wicked tongue. Will squirmed helplessly under the doctor’s clasp.

“God, _Hannibal_!” 

Will gave up attempting to give voice to the need firing through his synapses. He wrapped his legs around as much of Hannibal as he could and reached down to dig his fingers into the man’s scalp. The mouth around him was wet and impossibly hot, sucking him down after drawing off for _maybe_ a second. He had no time to catch his breath, and was quickly overwhelmed by sensation. He wondered if it would always be like this with Hannibal -intense, mind-blowing, really. Even the touch of long fingers holding his hips to the bed carried with it the ability to slowly drive him insane.

He came without any sense of preparedness, pulsing down the older man’s throat, who swallowed every drop and pulled off with a loud, obscene smack. Dazed, Will blinked at Hannibal as he rose, climbing hands and knees to loom above him.

“If I am the only one to see you wrecked as this, and often,” Hannibal said gruffly. “Then I believe I will be the happiest man for the rest of my days.”

Heat suffused Will’s cheeks in seconds as he caught the man’s gaze, both of their eyes black with animal craving. Even sated as he was, Will wanted more, more, _more_.

“Shut up,” Will said with his own growl, arms raising quickly. “Come here.”

He pulled those red, swollen lips closer and claimed the older man’s mouth this time, tasting himself in every crevice that his tongue sought out. He licked over sharp teeth and murmured appreciatively.

“Will, my Will,” Hannibal pulled away to whisper the words into his hair, where he nuzzled once more to scent the fresh sweat there.

“Yours,” Will agreed exhaustedly.

****

When Will woke up, the generator was rumbling loudly once more, and he was alone, although there was a glass of water on the nightstand next to him. He listened sleepily for the sound of movement outside of his room, and was rewarded with the clink of dishware. He got out of bed and dressed in a robe, cinching the belt tight around him. His hair was a lost cause, but it always was, so he didn’t bother with more than a cursory pat down of it before he wandered out of the room.

Hannibal was preparing food in the kitchen, and Abigail, seemingly having been awake for many hours, sat on a barstool and observed the man silently. When Will entered he found her wide blue eyes fixed on him almost immediately.

“Good morning,” Will greeted them both, and then sniffed.

His sinuses were stuffed up today, specifically his nasal passage. He supposed that was better than having a fever, though, and he took his present luck with a grain of salt.

“Will,” Hannibal appeared to be impossibly awake and chipper, hair smoothed into place. It was growing longer and longer, and Will liked it. “I hope that you slept well.”

“I did, thanks,” the younger man rubbed sleep from his eyes. “Hi Abigail.”

“Hi, Will,” she looked down shyly as she spoke, and smiled at Chester as he bumbled into the kitchen to snuffle around.

He made his way to the young woman quickly at the beseeching click of her tongue, and Will couldn’t fight the smile that broke out over his features almost immediately. He loved his dogs unconditionally, and longed to share them with those that could love the canines as well. Hannibal tolerated them, but Will knew that he had no particular fondness for them -merely for their master.

They shared a breakfast of salad with freshly foraged mushrooms and greens, and drank water. Will longed for orange juice or coffee, even if it were some nasty instant stuff. He didn’t complain, however, glad to sit with his friend -his lover-, and their new guest. Perhaps she would grow to be a friend, though presently Will found himself uncertain. It had been only him and Hannibal for a little while, Charly being the last person that they had seen after the fire and the group that they had once been apart of. He thought about them for the first time since, clearly at least, able to admit that he missed Beverly and Jimmy, even Jack to an extent. Maybe the last had more to do with how the world used to be, when he worked with the man -but honestly, that relationship, whatever it had been, had been tainted by his actions towards Hannibal.

He peered over at said man, whose damaged face was yet handsome. The blackened skin of his face was that no longer, though it was raw and red, a scar in progress shaped much like the fire that had caused it. His eye was opened, thankfully not marked other than they eyelid, bisected with a long scratch. The man had been very lucky.

He had also shaved. 

Reminded of his own predicament, Will cupped his face instinctively and fought back a sigh. His beard was as full as it would ever be, considering Will could barely grow one as it was, but right now he envied Hannibal’s smooth jawline. It must have taken him a while to maneuver around the wound on his face, and he supposed the air had an easier way of getting at the healing skin. Will caught Hannibal’s eye and returned the smirk he could see in those dark depths.

“I was just telling Abigail that I haven’t seen one of those creatures in quite a while,” Hannibal spoke.

“Oh,” Will’s smile faltered at the topic. “Yeah. I’m surprised we haven’t attracted a horde of them.”

“Precisely,” the older man set down his glass of water with a soft click. “I think that I would like to drive out and investigate.”

Will’s heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly felt very cold. It was bad enough that Hannibal had left for as long as he did yesterday. He didn’t want to leave, and he didn’t want to investigate; he wanted to take what they had and enjoy it. Call it denial, but Will just wanted to _forget_ , at least for a little while -perhaps a long while. And he had been managing that since they had arrived here, before Abigail had entered the picture. 

“Not today,” Hannibal assured softly, having read the fear that crossed his features. “But eventually. We cannot survive here forever, as it were.”

 _Why not?_ , Will thought irrationally. 

He pushed his plate away, no longer hungry.


	35. At Each End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I will endeavor to return within a fortnight,” he said. “If I do not, I beg you not to look for me.”
> 
> Will’s mouth opened instantly, and Hannibal held up a hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not ever going to give up on this story. I know I've said it before. I will also continuously apologize for the wait between chapters. Hopefully I can get a few out in a shorter amount of time<3
> 
> Not beta read.

Day Unknown

Hannibal let the matter go for two days before he brought it up again, as they lay dozing late one night.

“Why can’t we just stay here?” Will complained automatically, ignoring the childish tone he could hear in his own voice.

Hannibal ignored it too. He reached forward to cup Will’s face in one large, warm hand. The room was dark, the generator quiet and still in the back.

“I will return, my dear,” Hannibal whispered between quick, chaste kisses, peppered over Will’s forehead, cheeks, and the tip of his upturned nose.

“I don’t doubt that you will persevere to,” Will shut his eyes and sighed at the gentle press of lips on his face.

“You worry that I will be harmed,” Hannibal snaked his other hand beneath Will’s neck, trailed the other from cheek to neck to shoulder, and then pulled the younger man close.

“It’s not like the odds are in our favor,” Will wrapped his arms around Hannibal firmly.

“Don’t you wonder why we have remained unbothered here?” Hannibal pressed.

“I’d rather not question luck.”

Hannibal sighed this time, both fondly and mildly exasperatedly. He nuzzled into Will’s hair, before searching for soft, damp lips. Their kiss deepened almost immediately, tongues dipping into each other’s mouths, hands rubbing soothingly over naked, heated skin beneath the blanket. Will pressed his body flush against Hannibal’s and nearly purred at the feeling of strong muscles. 

“In this situation, I believe it is imperative that we do. There is no certainty to be found in an apocalypse. And, as you’ve said, there are no odds absolutely in our favor.”

Pulling away, Will tucked his head beneath Hannibal’s chin. He knew that the man was right. That didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. Eventually he gave in, embracing Hannibal tighter, closer, wishing that he never had to let go.

“I want you to bring Winston,” Will said, quietly, speaking into Hannibal’s shoulder between slow, soft kisses. “He’ll keep you safe.”

“Will,” the older man started.

“No. You take him, and you both bring each other back.”

Hannibal’s breath hitched. 

“I promise that I will,” he said, and then swiftly corrected himself. “I promise that _we_ will.”

They held each other long into the early hours of the morning. Will didn’t sleep a wink, and he knew that Hannibal didn’t either. Still, they were quiet as they listened to the other breath, hands over one another’s heart.

****

Hannibal packed a single bag with food, clothes, and a pad of paper with a pen. He slipped two long knives into the waistband of his black pants, and then turned to face Will and Abigail, who stood silent by the front door.

“I will endeavor to return within a fortnight,” he said. “If I do not, I beg you not to look for me.”

Will’s mouth opened instantly, and Hannibal held up a hand.

“Promise me,” he said fiercely, looking into blue eyes.

The young man took a step backwards, nearly bumping into Abigail. She reached forward as if to steady him, and then chose not to, wide eyes flitting between them both.

“If you aren’t right here where we’re standing in two weeks, I can’t promise I won’t destroy every other person on this planet until I find you,” Will stood his ground and glared at the doctor.

“Will,” Hannibal refrained from growling only to save Abigail from growing frightened -already she appeared ready to flee the room.

“Go,” the young man nearly shouted. “And come back to me. To us.”

Abigail’s shoulders seemed to ease at the last word that Will released in a huff of breath. The three of them were silent for a dragging moment, before Will whistled at Winston, and snapped a red leash onto his makeshift, rope collar. Most of the dogs had lost theirs in the time that had passed. Will had been surprised to find the leash tucked in with his clothes.

“There is a handgun in the study. Bottom drawer,” Hannibal said.

Hannibal chose not to divulge that he had a rifle waiting for him out back, stolen from the man in the shed. 

“I promise,” Will nodded once, and then glanced sidelong at Abigail.

“I do too,” the young woman spoke quickly.

“Until then,” Hannibal stepped forward and drew them both into a tight hug.

Will was clearly shocked, but he eased into it. Abigail clenched Hannibal’s shirt very briefly. Stepping away, the doctor nodded and then accepted the leash from Will. He opened the front door and stepped through it before any other words could be exchanged, clicking his tongue softly at Winston to get him to follow. Hannibal was certain that given enough time, Will would be able to convince him to stay, and so he didn’t look back. He shut the door behind him, and then walked swiftly around the house, using the cover of bushes and shrubs grown wild to stay out of sight. Reaching the shed, he let himself into it after tying Winston’s leash to the handle of the door. He met the wild, panicked eyes of Abigail’s former father.

“Hello, Garrett,” he greeted cheerily. “I do hope you slept well.”

He walked to end of the table and stared into the man’s face. Sweat beaded the man’s forehead.

“I regret to inform you that I’m leaving. Just for a little while.”

The gag keeping the man silent didn’t stop the useless little growls issuing forth from the man, who strained at his bindings.

“I know, I know,” Hannibal tilted his head. “Don’t worry, though. I will be back.”

And with that, Hannibal was gone, securing the door with the metal bar once more and making his way to the front of the house. The rifle, slung over his shoulder, bounced with each step he took. Winston’s tail wagged excitedly as he hopped into the passenger seat. Hannibal got in on the driver’s side and started the car after stowing the gun in the backseat, knowing that Will wouldn’t be able to bear watching him go. A cursory glance proved that the windows were clear of a head of curls and sad blue eyes.

****

Will turned the generator off early that night, before the sun had fallen. He stumbled through tall grass and circled the old shed, one hand brushing along the wooden wall to balance him. The loud growling sound faded, and Will straightened to peer around him. The forest around the house was impossibly quiet. In the distance, a small flock of birds loitered, chirping loudly. The sun was beginning to set. He returned to the house, stepping in through the back door, and found Abigail sitting on the floor waiting for him.

“I’m going to light some candles,” he informed the girl.

She hugged her knees to her chest and nodded, not looking at him.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He regretted asking such a ridiculous question immediately.

“Are you?” Abigail countered. “Is anyone?”

She whispered the last two words, and then shrugged.

“Sorry,” Will said, and then trailed off awkwardly. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

Slightly bewildered, Will looked away. The dogs were laying on the floor around her, and it was strange, not spotting the familiar, golden fur of Winston. He chose to deliberately ignore the part of him that clambered for attention, the part that shook with fear the second Hannibal had suggested leaving, even if only for a short time.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m going to go light those candles.”

She didn’t respond that time. Will left the room, and spent the next several minutes placing candles around the living room, on the floor in the hallways, and in both of their rooms. He lit each one carefully, and set them far from anything that could catch fire. That night, neither of them ate, but eventually they gravitated to the living room together, sitting on the floor with the dogs in the soft, flickering candlelight.

“I’m sorry,” Abigail said, suddenly breaking the silence that had reigned over them for several hours.

“For what?” Will blinked over at her and continued to stroke Buster’s fur.

“I’m not trying to be rude,” she gestured at herself. “It’s just weird, being here.”

“With me?” he asked, curious.

“That too. But mainly just in general. I didn’t think I would ever be anywhere but those woods. I was starting to believe that I would die there.”

Will looked away.

“I thought the same thing once, about myself,” he spoke quietly. “Sometimes I still think I will. This place doesn’t feel sustainable.”

It was hard for him to admit that out loud. He wanted it to be, but the hard truth was that _nowhere_ would be sustainable so long as the world continued on as it was. They could be anywhere on the planet in that moment.

“It’s safe, for now,” Abigail stared at her hands where they sat in her lap, her legs tucked under her as she sat. 

“For now,” Will agreed.

They lapsed into silence once more. Eventually, Abigail got to her feet and disappeared into what was now her room. Will stared after her in the dark, the sun having set about an hour ago. Only then did he allow himself to think about Hannibal, shutting his eyes tight and imagining the man walking through the forest, quiet like the predator he was. 

That night, he couldn’t bear to sleep in the bed that he had shared with Hannibal. Instead, he curled up on the couch and fell asleep with tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

****

Hannibal switched vehicles as soon as he found one suitable, after reaching the highway once more. He peered into the windows of cars and trucks and vans until he found one with the keys still present, Winston trailing behind him obediently and sniffing at the ground. It was a slight ordeal to maneuver the old pickup truck around the stalled traffic, but eventually he drove on. Several miles down the road, he began to notice the bodies, still and truly dead. By morning's light, he had switched vehicles one more time, and by midday, he picked up a familiar trail.

As he drove, Hannibal’s thoughts didn’t once waver from his Will. He kept the image of the young man stark and bright in his memory palace, standing in his office in Baltimore. Vulnerable, Will looked at him. Lovingly, Hannibal looked at him.

“You’re much stronger than you think,” Hannibal said to the young man in his mind. “You will be fine without me, for a little while.”

The desperation in the real Will’s eyes lingered fresh in Hannibal’s mind, separate from his mind palace. Before he had left, Hannibal had met Will’s eyes and knew from those few seconds that his dear friend truly expected not to see him again. Regret, a very rare emotion that Hannibal allowed himself to contemplate, filled him in the quiet moments as he drove. If by any chance that he _didn’t_ return, Hannibal would have liked to have kissed Will one last time. He glanced over at the dog curled up in the seat next to him, head resting primly on paws. Brown eyes flicked at him curiously, tail wagging halfheartedly.

Hannibal stroked one hand over Winston’s head gently, allowing the canine to sniff and lick at his fingers. He attempted to imagine what Will saw in the creature, in any of the animals, and while he could understand the logic of why Will rescued strays, he couldn’t understand what drove the young man to entrust one of them to him. Could it be that Will thought he would not try hard enough to return? By sending Winston, did that comfort the younger man, knowing that Hannibal wouldn’t want to hurt him by getting the dog killed or injured? 

The doctor had no answers for any of his questions. Only more and more questions, as his body ached to return to Will. In a moment of irrationality, he nearly turned around and did so.

_Will._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I edited this a tiny bit to change Will's dialogue to two weeks instead of two days! Sorry for any confusion :)


	36. Paltry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _God, I miss him,_ Will thought. 
> 
>  He hoped that Hannibal and Winston were safe. More than anything, he hoped that they returned to him, whether or not they were accompanied by news. They could come back and Hannibal could tell him that the world was saved and he would still only care that he had kept his word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any glaring mistakes. I'm still pretty sick :( But I wanted to get this chapter out so bad. It's a tiny bit shorter than usual, but I feel like if I added anything else, it would take away from the next chapter, which has a lot of action! Hopefully that gets out sooner than this one did<3
> 
> Thank you all for your patience<3
> 
> Not beta read!

Day Unknown

Will decided to forgo the bed or the chaise the first night. He curled up on the floor with his dogs, using Hannibal’s pillow dragged out from the bedroom to rest his head on. Chester settled down in front of him and wagged his thin tail until Will wrapped an arm around his middle and made fussy noises at him.

“I’d say you’re pathetic,” Abigail’s voice broke the silence in the dark room. “But honestly, I feel like doing the same thing right now.”

Glancing at her, Will couldn’t help a small smile from appearing on his face.

“Then do it,” he said. “Plenty of room down here.”

So they found themselves laying across from each other, man and teenager, both dark-haired and blue-eyed; both curious and a little wary, and each of them wondering just what the next few days would bring. The generator had long been turned off, and a few candles lay lit on the table behind them. In front of them was a fireplace that Will wasn’t certain he wanted to risk lighting.

“It’s so weird being inside,” Abigail whispered. “W- I travelled a lot, so I was outside more often than not. Unless it stormed, then I found some form of shelter. Mostly trees.”

It was the most Will had heard her say, to him at least. He shifted on the floor, carpeted but not entirely comfortable, and contemplated bringing out some blankets. In the end, he found himself too drained to move beyond stretching his legs.

“We spent a lot of time outside too,” Will murmured. “A lot of vehicles, for the most part. A warehouse that got set on fire.”

Abigail shifted onto her side a bit, leaning her head in one hand. Her eyes caught a flicker of candlelight, glittering in the dark.

“That sounds fun,” she snickered quietly.

“Hah, yeah, it was something.”

And for the next hour or more, he told her about the group that he was in, explaining how he knew them or didn’t. He told her as much as he remembered, but found himself struggling to add detail. He had spent so much time with Hannibal, alone together, that it became difficult to really separate it from the last time he had seen the group. However, the more he talked about them, the more he grew grateful that the memories were becoming distant. He tended to worry less about what had become of them.

He did miss them, though. Jack and Jimmy, Beverly and even Brian. They were his tie to a previous lifetime. And he missed Charly, too.

Abigail listened silently, not commenting on his story until the very end.

“Charly sounds like a good guy,” she said.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “He really was. I hope that he’s okay.”

The young woman smiled slightly, and then told him about her mother, who had been with her for a little while. She told the story of her passing -throat bitten out by a zombie, who surprised them in the woods-, with little emotion, though she sniffed once or twice. Will refrained from comforting her, having a feeling that she didn’t want or need it.

“I like being here,” she finished her story with those words, a genuine smile on her face. 

“It’s nice here,” Will agreed. “We’re happy to have you.”

Will would have had to fake those words the first few hours she had been here. At first, she had been similar to a trespasser, unwanted in the familiar territory that was his own and Hannibal’s. Slowly, he accepted her presence -inwardly, he did still long for his lover to be by his side, and only him. That thought made Will shut his eyes, his heart skipping a beat and his stomach turning unpleasantly.

_God, I miss him,_ Will thought. 

He hoped that Hannibal and Winston were safe. More than anything, he hoped that they returned to him, whether or not they were accompanied by news. They could come back and Hannibal could tell him that the world was saved and he would still only care that he had kept his word.

Silent, they both drifted into their own thoughts, and then, eventually, sleep. Will woke up not long after, however, feeling sore, and he climbed to his feet with a soft grunt. He shushed the dogs, not wanting them to disturb Abigail’s rest, and then watched her sleeping face for a second, a smile finding its way onto his own. He dropped the blanket onto her, pulled off of her own bed. Around her, his pack snuffled and shifted slightly once more, one tail thumping a few times at Will’s nearness. 

“Keep her warm,” he whispered to his furry friends.

He walked out of the living room, feeling his way along the wall until he arrived at his room. The candle he had lit moments ago fluttered as he walked by to look out the window. Darkness met him, the stars in the sky blocked by the trees around the property. He shivered, crossing his arms over his chest as goosebumps rose on his skin, a strange feeling coming over him just then -unexplainable and disturbing. Shaking his head, Will chalked it up to the fact that he was separated from Hannibal. The disquiet within him hadn’t left, and he imagined he would feel off until the man was in his arms once more. He turned away and climbed into the bed that was far too big for him alone.

He dozed off with Hannibal’s pillow clutched to his chest.

****

Two days passed quickly and uneventfully. On the second night, the truck rolled to its final stop, miles and miles of slow driving, maneuvering around the mess on the roads draining the fuel tank steadily. Fortune didn’t favor man or dog for a long time, the cars dry of gas or sans visible keys.

So Hannibal and Winston walked along the road in near darkness. The sun lingered at the horizon and climbed higher by the minute, slowly throwing light over the world. Bodies upon bodies and stalled vehicles dotted the highway without break, revealed in detail as night faded away. The air reeked. Sensitive as his nose was, Hannibal had to fight the urge to stop and dry heave. He considered walking along the forest lines instead, but it was easier this way, and perhaps safer. Several times he had to snap at Winston as the mutt snuffled and nibbled at limbs torn and decorating the asphalt intermittently. Such as now, the dog lapping at a pool of dried blood loudly.

“Stop it,” Hannibal tugged on the leash as hard as he dared, not wanting to injure the animal. 

Winston perked his ears and looked up at the man, curled tail wagging, before he returned to lick at the red stain. Eventually Hannibal managed to harangue the canine into ceasing, and they went on their way once more. They were closer now, Hannibal’s trail clearer: that afternoon, or early in the evening, they would arrive. 

Hannibal was incredibly curious as to what would then happen.

****

Bella grew somber and weak after the third day of Charly’s arrival. By the seventh, she refused to move. She lay on her side, away from everyone else, on a pile of Jack’s clothing. 

The man in question offered his comfort in silence and hesitant acceptance, unable to stomach her empty glares and emptier words. When -and if- she spoke, her voice was monotonous and unfeeling. She refused eye contact, and when she didn’t, Jack could hardly refrain from grabbing her by the shoulders and begging for her to care again. He couldn’t remember the last time they had lain close, let alone exchanged pleasantries of any sort.

The others noticed. They showed it in their own ways; Beverly, with furtive glances between them when a question or comment went unanswered by Bella. Brian and Jimmy averted their eyes and appeared embarrassed when Jack was snubbed. They clearly wanted to comfort him, but knew innately that he wouldn’t abide it easily. Jack tried to find peace within himself, knowing that he was thankful for his friends. Unfortunately, the frostiness of his wife grew to affect him as the days dragged by.

That morning, Charly was awake before the sun had fully met the horizon on its journey to the sky. He stoked the fire quietly, and Jack blinked into wakefulness and regarded him, unsurprised when the man appeared to notice immediately.

“Hello,” Charly whispered.

Sitting up, Jack nodded at the man. He climbed to his feet and stretched out the kinks and aches in his aging body, and then sat on a rock near the fire. 

“You’re up early,” Jack said, for lack of anything else to say. ‘Good morning’ didn’t seem appropriate.

“There is something in the air today,” Charly informed him. “I wanted to be ready.”

Jack wanted to dismiss the odd words at first, like he nearly had the other day. However, there was something about Charly that felt… _other_. And honest. An instinct within Jack told him to give the man credit where credit was due.

“Something bad?” he asked carefully.

“It’s not clear,” Charly shrugged and then grinned. “But being prepared is half of the battle, good or bad.”

Jack nodded. Inside, he was conflicted. Despite the spot in his gut that wanted to believe Charly, there was still the very real, logical part of him that clambered to the forefront of his mind in disbelief.

_Then again, I never imaged that the zombie apocalypse would ever happen_ , he thought. 

He looked over at the bundle of apathy that was his wife. Bella never faced him, or any of them. Often, not in need of the comfort of the fire, she would leave the group all together to lay behind a tree. Jack returned his gaze to Charly with no small amount of consideration.

“Well, the both of us are prepared, then,” he muttered.

Charly’s smile showed the few amount of teeth left in his mouth.

****

The loud, growling noise had gone. The shed was pitch black. 

Garrett Jacob Hobbs lay on the metal table, eyes closed as he focused. Another shift. Grunting, he pulled on the strap around his wrists harshly. Again, they gave a bit. 

He wasn’t certain what had happened to his Abigail. He was still very confused on what had happened at all. His heart told him that he had been betrayed, but he couldn’t let himself accept that. He had done so much for his little girl, she couldn’t have possibly been involved with that… _monster_. Garrett can remember red eyes and the single-minded intention to _kill_. And yet, here he lay, alive and left to wait, suffering in an entirely different way.

With a quick jerk of his body, Garrett managed to free one hand. Victorious, he grinned and began to work on the rest of his bindings.


	37. To Tolerate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gasp left someone’s mouth -Bella’s, it turned out.
> 
> “What the fuck are you doing here?” she asked, climbing to her feet, fists clenched at her sides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta read!<3

Day Unknown

The house was silent, still and dark like the sky. Around it, the forest, alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, bugs and small chirping things, towered ominously in the dead of night. The man crept silently along the perimeter of the building, some rich bastard’s humble abode; or not ‘some’. He knew the individual who had brought him here, teasing words with the promise of future torture the only human contact he had had for as many days as he could recall.

Garrett Jacob Hobbs missed his daughter. His precious girl -she had to be nearby. She wouldn’t have really left him to suffer, to rot in that shed, would she? He refused to accept any answer other than no.

The grass was long, untended and scratchy on his bare feet. He wore the ragged remains of his clothes, and the chill in the air had his muscles drawn tight. He made it to the front of the building and peered into the closest window. Darkness, and where the moonlight above didn’t touch, emptiness. It would be easy to assume no one remained here, were it not for the tiny flicker of candlelight that he finally spied out of the corner of his eye.

He wasn’t going to risk the front door, or breaking a window for that matter. Whoever was inside (Abigail? Or that man who had trapped him in the shed?), would be awakened or alerted immediately. Time slowed, a sluggish crawl along the sides of the house yielding nothing but stains and pricks from sharp plants or nicks from rocks. Eventually, however, he found a loosened window that most likely belonged to the basement. A hard grip and a shove had it opened, and he crawled inside, struggling in the tight space until he dropped onto a dusty, cold floor. 

Silence rang loudly in his ears. He tried desperately to listen for any movement upstairs. Nothing -his entrance had garnered him no attention, at least.

He moved onward.

****

Will curled up under a heavy blanket, laying in the middle of the bed he had shared with Hannibal days ago. The man’s scent had faded, leaving the younger one with a palpable sense of loss. He shut his eyes and pretended the weight of the comforter was Hannibal, strong arm settled across his middle. The pillow beneath his head he wished was his lover’s other arm, cradling him close.

He opened one eye and glared at the candle he had forgotten to blow out, too comfortable and wedged far into his imaginings now to bother getting to his feet once more. Will burrowed further beneath the warmth of the blanket and sighed into the pillow. A fortnight -Hannibal’s fancy words and not-quite-fancy promise: he knew the man would keep it, were it within the realm of possibility. Who honestly knew other than his lover what was going on out there, though?

_Lover. Hannibal is my lover. And I let him go out there, him and Winston -alone_.

Their separation was a tangible thing in that moment. The illusion of safety and comfort offered by this house had disappeared the first night, with Hannibal long gone. Will had realized only far too late that Hannibal was his home, not this place. He should have followed the man, just as he knew Hannibal would follow him tirelessly and endlessly, as he had until now. 

The floorboards creaked outside of his room. One of the dogs moving around to find a more suitable spot, he imagined. The door to his -their- room was wide open.

Will closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, ignoring the anxiety itching under his skin. The feeling never left him, and he knew it wouldn’t until Hannibal had returned to him. He pictured the older man, back in his office during their first session. It was difficult to reconcile that image with the present, and how they both were with each other. Then, strangers, Will not entirely accepting of the man’s position as his not-quite-psychiatrist, and Hannibal just another one of them -those grasping for the chance to pick apart his brain. 

A door squeaked, opening slowly. Farther off in the house, not his own or Abigail’s down the hall. A single, heavy footstep.

_Hannibal?_

Blanket tossed aside, Will scrambled to his feet. His heart raced, and he took a shaking step towards the hallway. And as he approached the open door, the dogs began to bark. The cacophony shook him, sweat breaking out on his brow and his body drawing tight with tension. He clutched at the wall as he neared the hallway, and bared his teeth at the sound of breaking glass.

Wouldn’t it be ironic, that Hannibal had left to search for answers, only for them to arrive while he was gone?

Will took off towards the study, heart racing.

****

Hannibal brought the rickety, old car to a stop. He found it amusing that the ugly thing had brought him and Winston so far, compared to the other vehicles. They made their way down the highway once more, man and dog, beast and animal. Night was fully upon them, but the moon shone bright, lightening their way. Even without it, Hannibal’s keen eyes picked their path with patient confidence.

He found what he was looking for an hour later, and indication of a vehicle having driven off the road. Instead of crashing in the ditch or stopping anywhere in sight, the crumpled grass and dirt of the tire tracks lead far into the woods. He hefted his bag, patted at the knife at his waist, and then walked off the road. Winston’s tail wagged enthusiastically, nose already busy sniffling at the grass and tire tracks. The further they walked away from the highway, the less light shone upon them from the bright moon, until the air around them was pitch black for a short time.

Then, in the distance, firelight flickered between the branches of the trees surrounding the area. Hannibal prepared himself for the confrontation that he knew was about to happen.

Despite the danger he was walking into, he was still merely curious as to what would happen.

****

Jack sat next to Jimmy on the rotting log they had pulled closer to the fire. Brian and Beverly sat on the ground nearby, warming their hands.

“How long has it even been?” Jimmy asked morosely, head leaning miserably against one hand, elbow leaning on his knee.

“Since we came here, or since the zombies inherited the earth?” Brian asked tiredly.

“They stole it, they didn’t inherit it,” Price rolled his eyes. “But yeah, the second part.”

“More than a month,” Jack answered. “Approaching two.”

“That’s all?” Beverly whined. Her head dropped to lean on Brian’s shoulder. “It feels like it’s been years. I just want to go home.”

Silence fell over the group. Bella was sleeping nearby, curled up beneath a tree. Charly sat on a rock on the other side of the fire, quiet. He stared into the flames intently, unblinking. Jack noticed him only after the silence had dragged on, broken only by the crackling fire and the sniffles coming out of Beverly, who seemed to be coming down with something. 

“Hey, Charly,” Jack spoke. No response. “Hey, man. You okay?”

A stick snapped audibly from a near distance. Immediately, all of those awake were on their feet. Bella didn’t stir.

“Whoever is there, show yourself!” Jack shouted.

Somehow, it didn’t occur to him that it could be a zombie. When he realized that a second later, it was with a bit of shock. Had he really taken Charly’s word on the fate of their world so easily?

The clearing was quiet once more, before another stick or branch snapped loudly. Then, a familiar jingling sound was heard. From the darkness that surrounded them, a dog strolled into sight, fluffy, curled tail wagging excitedly. Jack lowered his weapon, that never strayed far despite the relative safety they had gained here in this forest. The canine’s tongue lolled out of its mouth, and with a cold shock, he realized that he recognized the mutt.

“Winston?” Beverly spoke the question on the tip of Jack’s tongue. “Hey, boy, come here!”

Winston stopped, ears perked. Despite her familiar voice, however, he didn’t come any closer. A minute passed, before another figure joined them, shadows passing over a tall form and features. Sharp cheekbones, a straight nose, blackened skin and one closed eye. Lengthening flaxen hair, and a stride that had Jack’s heart skipping a beat. A gasp left someone’s mouth -Bella’s, it turned out.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she asked, climbing to her feet, fists clenched at her sides.

Jack looked at her, worry for her visibly weakened state, before his eyes bounced back to Hannibal Lecter. Quite honestly, it would have been less surprising to see a zombie in that instant.

“Lecter,” Jack hissed.

Hannibal came to a standstill next to Winston, kneeling forwards to take up the leash. When he straightened, Jack saw that he looked healthy, other than the healing mess on his face. The others were quiet, the air filled with tension.

“Hello, Mister Lecter,” Charly wave was lackadaisical. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Nice?” Bella growled.

The target of their mixed emotions inclined his head at Charly.

“Hello, Charly,” he said, accented voice deep and as grating as ever. 

Other than that, he declined to answer Bella’s heated question. That is, until she aimed a handgun at him, taken out of the pile of clothes surrounding her. Jack’s nostrils flared -one part of him wanted to be on the other end of that gun, stroking the trigger. The other wanted to know where the fuck Will Graham was. If Hannibal were dead, he couldn’t answer that.

“Bella,” he said. “Put the gun down.”

“ _He tried to kill us_ ,” Bella shouted. “He deserves a bullet between his eyes.”

“On the contrary,” Hannibal didn’t look away from Charly, but directed his words towards Bella. “I merely required a distraction.”

“So if we had died, would that have mattered?” Bella’s hand didn’t waver, and she walked a few steps closer, aim careful.

“I would not wish any of you dead,” Hannibal raised his hands slowly as the gun drew nearer. “But I knew that you would not have let me take Will otherwise.”

Jack saw his opportunity. 

“Where is Will?” he demanded. The subject was convenient. 

“He is safe,” Hannibal finally met Jack’s gaze, demon eyes narrowed minutely. 

Jack wasn’t so sure about that.

****

It wasn’t Hannibal.

Will landed with winded sound, smacking into a wall and losing his balance. His face throbbed from blow, landed by the shadowed figure. The gun he had retrieved from the study fell out of his grasp and skipped across the floor. Around them, the dogs continued to bark, jumping around the tall man that had hit their master.

“Will?” a small voice asked.

“ _Abigail_ ,” the man growled.

Abigail gasped, standing in the doorway of the front room. Will squinted at her, and then between her and the man that had struck him. It was too dark in the room to discern either of their features, but Abigail was breathing heavily, frightened.

“I knew you wouldn’t have left me,” the man continued. “My precious girl.”

Will struggled to stand, face hurting. One of his teeth felt loose. He couldn’t make much sense of what was happening right now, but he knew with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t let Abigail get hurt. He whistled harshly, bringing the dogs to heel, smirking despite knowing his expression probably couldn’t be seen in the small amount of moonlight peeking through the front entrance windows. The canines stopped barking, some whining as they paced uncertainly. Will pointed at the man.

“ _Get him_!” he roared. 

The dogs snarled and jumped towards the stranger, and Will ignored the man’s surprised shout as strong jaws closed around one of his arms. Another, sharp teeth gnashing, snagged onto the man’s leg. The strong metallic scent of blood filled the air. Somewhere, Abigail’s scream could be heard, but the thundering of Will’s heart drowned the sound out quickly.

He joined the growls of his pack with one of his own, before he strode forward to return the hit that was already bruising on his own face.


	38. A Grand Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -here, without him, about to die at the hands of a tall pale man, who looked and sounded like one of the zombies they hadn’t seen in a long while.
> 
> _I made him promise to come home to me,_ Will thinks weakly. _And look at me now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta read!!! <3

Day Unknown

The man, who Will would later learn was Abigail’s _father_ , went down easily, the element of surprise on the younger man’s side. Chester’s jaws were clamped down tight, head shaking aggressively, to the horror of the man on the floor. Shelly tugged and pulled at the leg that she had gotten ahold of. 

It was strange to acknowledge their existence when they had been absent for so long now.

Wide eyes and a gaping mouth look up at him. Perhaps the man figured he would have been able to sneak in and harm the inhabitants without any interruptions. Presently, without the knowledge that would later unnerve and piss him off, Will wondered why the man had bothered doing anything other than ransacking the kitchen first. He clenched his fist, knuckles still stinging from the hit he had dealt the invader. 

“Heel!” Will shouted.

Each one of his pack ceased their nervous pacing and snarling, and Chester and Shelly released him from their dangerous teeth. With a flurry of movement, the dogs circled around Will and lined up behind him in a loose semi-circle. The young man exhaled loudly, and rotated his neck and shoulders, attempting to release some of the tension in them. Then he focused his attention on the man moaning in pain before him.

“Who are you?” Will demanded to know.

There was no answer.

A small voice whimpered, and Will finally noticed Abigail, clutching herself in a hug, arms shaking and eyes shut tightly. Moonlight slashed through a window nearby, lighting half of her face and causing the tears rolling down her to glisten.

“Abigail?” he asked, attention torn in a second too long.

His distraction was partial -thankfully- and it saved him. The invader jumped to his feet, stumbling forward without grace to grab Will by the neck. Fingers tightened immediately, impossibly strong, causing blue eyes to widen, Will’s own hands grasping forward to push his assailant away. 

“ _Stop it, leave him alone!_ ” Abigail screamed in fear and anger.

The grip merely tightened, and choking sounds bubbled up from Will’s throat as his vision began to flutter around the edges. He clawed uselessly at the man’s face and neck, but his strength began to peter out of him. Sweat poured from his hair and soaked his body in a thin sheen as his body began to shake. He could hear Abigail’s continued screams, and the barking from his dogs -as if from a tunnel, though.

_Will_ , a voice, either in his head or not, kept him from fading away. He blinked, and it took far too much effort just to do that. He could feel that his eyes were wide, his mouth slack. The voice said his name again, and he determined with a cold shock that it was Hannibal’s. He pictured the man in his mind, and it was so clear he could nearly cry for it if he wasn’t being choked. Hannibal Lecter, his friend, lover, his _everything_. And now -here, without him, about to die at the hands of a tall pale man, who looked and sounded like one of the zombies they hadn’t seen in a long while.

_I made him promise to come home to me,_ Will thinks weakly. _And look at me now._

****

It took a very long time to convince Bella to put the gun down, and when she did, she cast a hateful gaze over the group in its entirety. Jack attempted to comfort her and was promptly given a stare that had him backing down immediately, only to watch forlornly as she walked out of the clearing, ignoring the blackness of the night.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Hannibal’s voice interrupted his frantic thoughts, come to the forefront in a dizzying haze as he watched his wife disappear.

“Spare it,” he snapped. “I don’t want to hear it.”

He knew better than to follow Bella, but he wanted to with everything in his being. Instead, he stormed over to the fire and sat down once more. Slowly, the others followed suite, all of them attempting and failing not to stare at Hannibal.

“I was expecting you sooner,” Charly said brightly.

Jack watched as Hannibal strode closer, invited to their fire wordlessly by the cheerful, large man. He knew that he should say something, send the man away -hell, kill him for god’s sake. However, Jack found himself caring less and less, tired and drained from his existence in general. He stared resolutely at the fire blazing before him, arms crossing over his broad chest.

“I apologize,” Hannibal said, voice grating and insincere (as far as Jack was concerned, at any rate.)

The entire situation was surreal. Here was the man they had not long ago been tracking, attempting to locate to most assuredly kill, if Bella’s rage had anything to do with it. Jack looked up at the sky, what he could see from their small clearing, and allowed himself to feel mildly comforted by the stars. Then he stood and dove for Hannibal, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and hauling him close. Maroon eyes narrowed at him, and this close, the healing burn on his face was ugly and flaking. 

“Where is Will?” he asked with a growl. “You tell me, and you do it _now_.”

_Before I let my wife shoot you in your shrunken, evil heart. Before I rip it out and feed it to you._

Hannibal remained silent long enough to look him in the eye, assessing. Stubble darkened the man’s sharp jawline, and his hair was untidy. His clothes were as clean as they could be, and he had evidently traveled a fair distance to find them. 

“He is safe,” Hannibal repeated.

Jack only became aware of the snarl curling his lips when he heard Winston barking. He had pulled Hannibal closer, threateningly. 

“I promise you, Jack,” the bastard continued speaking. “I would never let any harm come to Will.”

“You think I would ever take your words to heart?” Jack asked in disbelief. “You’re a psychopath. You’re a monster.”

“Perhaps I am,” Hannibal’s voice lowered. “But even monsters are capable of feeling love.”

Jack released the man from his grip and turned away brusquely. Love? Was a man such as Hannibal actually able to feel that? It was all too much for him -he was still reeling from the distance lengthening between him and Bella. The world had ended and here they all lived, existing in some sort of limbo. Suddenly, nothing felt worth it anymore. 

He walked away without another word or a glance over his shoulder.

****

Will coughed and fell to his knees, shaking and sweating and near fainting.

Somewhere, glass smashed.

When his vision returned, he looked up to find Abigail standing with her arms in the air. The empty wine bottle that had been in her hands now lay in shards on the floor. The man who had been choking him lay unconscious at her feet. 

“Will?” she cried out. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he coughed out. “Are y-y-you?”

She nodded and circled the body on the floor to kneel beside him. Small hands fluttered over his shoulders before she finally just remained beside him, silent as he coughed and drew in air with difficulty. Finally, he could stand, and he stumbled away from the mess before him.

“That man knows your name,” he stated, breaking the tense silence.

Abigail stood and hugged herself. Wide eyes watched him fearfully in the darkness. Pale moonlight glittered off of the glass on the tiled floor.

“He’s my father,” she whispered. 

Will blinked. His mind was sluggish from the lack of oxygen, and his body still shook, quivering as if from a chill. He felt behind him for one of the stools at the island counter, and hauled himself up into it to sit.

“Your father,” he said.

“Yes,” Abigail spoke louder. “I was going to tell you about him. _We_ were.”

“You and Hannibal,” Will didn’t ask.

She quieted, unsure how to respond to him. He couldn’t blame her. But he could blame Hannibal. He longed for the man to return, both to keep his promise, and to explain what was going on here. He peered over at the stranger lying sprawled on the floor. Abigail’s father -Hannibal had lied to him, saying that he had found her alone. 

In the following moments, he learned that her father had been bound in the shed out back. He wasn’t certain what to feel anymore. His throat hurt and his body ached. They tied Abigail’s father to a chair tightly, duct taping him as well for good measure, and locked him in a closet, gagged and unable to move. The glass was swept up and tossed out. Then, together, they collapsed in the den, the dogs following them with questioning, wet noses, and gentle whines for attention.

“I’m sorry,” Abigail started.

“Don’t,” Will raised a hand. “I can’t do this right now. Just let me-I’m just going to close my eyes for a little while.”

He shut them and drifted off almost immediately, his feet warmed by one of the bigger dogs, and his lap by Buster.

****

Hannibal warmed himself by the fire, and accepted the can of food passed around as if he were truly part of the group here once more. Charly, who had stood by quietly as Jack confronted him, had just finished speaking. It was odd, wanting to trust the gentle man. He spoke as if he were some mystical being, a fortune teller escaped from the circus, and yet with such certainty that it was hard to disagree with him. 

The monsters were gone. It was over.

These were the answers he had come looking for. However, he wondered in that moment if he would be allowed to walk away unscathed. Bella returned eventually to sit just outside of the fire’s radius, and he could feel the weight of her stare as if it were a slap across his cheek. Her hatred for him was a bitter scent; that and her fear. And the curious, sickly sweet smell wafting about her in a cloud. The others watched him with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, distrusting of him greatly.

“Thank you,” he said, after swallowing the mouthful of cold soup. 

Winston lay next to him, curled up and looking longingly for a scrap of food. Chagrined, Hannibal dug around in his bag to produce a couple of handfuls of the kibble he had found in one of the vehicles on the way here. He fed it to the animal who he grew more fond of every passing day.

“Everyone deserves to have a full belly,” Charly said happily. “Or at least one that isn’t empty.”

Hannibal nodded his agreement. 

“Is Will feeling better?” Charly asked.

“He was improving quite a bit before I left,” Hannibal shifted on the uncomfortable seat and missed the warmth and softness of his bed. “The fevers were becoming less frequent.”

“I’m glad,” the big man nodded his head, smile still in place. “You should stay here for the night. Tomorrow, you will want to go back to him. There are things happening without you, now.”

Hannibal tilted his head, curious, and -quite unexpectedly- worried. He considered all of the ‘things’ that could be occurring at home, with Will and Abigail and the rest of Winston’s siblings. Their conversation about his dear boy’s health flashed at the forefront of his mind like an alarm. He almost left in that second, body shifting impulsively at the uncharacteristic anxiety shuddering beneath his skin. Instead, he allowed no expression to cross his features, nodding his agreeance. He was too physically tired to begin the trip home, and he wanted to give Winston the time to rest. 

The sound of shuffling clothes and blankets were heard as the others began to ready themselves for bed. Jack slipped from the rock he had been sitting on to sit on the ground, legs bent before him. Bella had finally turned away and curled up once more. Eventually, Hannibal lay on the ground near Charly, warmed by the soft fur of his canine companion, and as comfortable as he could manage to get. He didn’t sleep, but he did allow his body to relax.

“Don’t worry,” Charly said, interrupting his thoughts. “He’s still safe.”

Despite the relative comfort of the words, Hannibal didn’t stop thinking about Will for a second.


	39. Alter Never Ego

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The entryway and den were completely emptied. No sniffling noses and raised tails to greet Hannibal and their brother. Hannibal’s heart skipped a beat painfully as he strode down the familiar hallway towards the bedroom, where the door was shut and locked when he reached it. 
> 
> “Will?” he called, perhaps louder than he intended as he rattled the knob of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one more chapter to go :D Thank you all so very much for sticking with me on this journey<3 You're truly the best!
> 
> Not beta read<3

Day Unknown

Hannibal and Winston left the clearing as they had entered -quietly, and with intention. 

Jack watched the man leave with a lightness in his chest. He didn’t forgive the man his attempt on their lives. But with a certainty that filled him, he knew that he wouldn’t see Hannibal Lecter again.

“You wanted to kill him,” Charly commented as they sat down.

Beverly and Jimmy still slept, and Brian sat up tiredly in the early morning light. Bella sat closer to the fire, shivering. 

What a sad day it was, knowing that she had turned him away, for he wanted nothing more than to offer his arms to her. Jack made himself look away, meeting Charly’s sad eyes.

“He tried to kill us,” Jack explained once more. Didn’t Charly understand how bad that was?

“But he didn’t,” the big man smiled gently. “And by not killing him, you are absolved of any guilt you would have felt had you done that. The anger left behind is there because you won’t let it go.”

Bella looked up at Charly’s words. She hadn’t spoken since Hannibal had arrived, when she had confronted him with the gun.

 _I just don’t want to sink to his level_ , Jack admitted to himself. To kill a killer didn’t make him any better. He nodded at Charly outwardly.

“He said that even monsters are capable of feeling love,” Bella said, hoarsely. 

Jack looked at her, heart beginning to race. He thought about Will -again-, and realized he didn’t have to try to figure out why the younger man had chosen to stay with Hannibal. If he were honest with himself, he would have done the same, had Bella only asked for it.

He would give her the world if he could.

“I know,” Bella said, and that was when Jack realized he had been speaking his thoughts aloud. 

His wife’s face was softened, the frown easing away and her wrinkled brow smoothing out. He went to her and she was the one that opened her arms. While he didn’t feel cold, suddenly everything inside of him was warm. Morning raised the sun higher and higher, and soon they were packing their belongings up, sick of this forest and sick of the stagnating in uncertainty. A new life came to Jack as they set off in a random direction, no longer heading anywhere and not wanting to stay there.

Charly smiled and waved once more, watching the group grow smaller and smaller.

Then he turned around and started on the journey back home.

****

Will sat in the den, silence ringing loudly in his ears. The single candle he had lit before Abigail returned fitfully to bed in the early hours of the morning had puttered out. For the last half an hour he had listened to the rhythmic banging coming from the hallway. The dogs periodically perked ears at the sound, glancing in the direction of the closet and back to their master, before settling down once more.

The truth was, their master didn’t know what to do with the man tied up in there.

He thought sparingly about what Hannibal would do -had perhaps intended to once he returned. But then, why wait and leave Abigail’s father in the shed? The fact that his friend and lover might have been waiting to share the kill didn’t even so much as resemble acceptable to Will, even though he could acknowledge that that was perhaps the intention. Was he mad at Hannibal? Certainly, because lying was no way to begin this new thing developing between them. 

_But can I really be mad at him for wanting to share his passions with me?_ , Will considered.

He decided that he couldn’t really, and simultaneously that he wouldn’t be sharing that kind of ‘passion’ with Hannibal, no matter his love for him. He wasn’t sure if he would hold the man back, however, were he to partake in what he had spent a better part of his life doing. Once he returned and realized what had happened, Hannibal was certain to enact some sort of revenge once he spotted the bruises purpling Will’s throat.

Will sighed, his head beginning to hurt. He dismissed his wandering thoughts and stood. The sun was rising, and outside it was too bright. He drew all the blinds and curtains closed, and found his way into the kitchen to lean heavily on the counter. He tried to imagine living here without humanity having been destroyed, with the power on and not worrying about draining the generator. In this world, he and Hannibal were taking a week away from work to establish a tighter hold on their fledgeling relationship. They would laze about and explore each other’s bodies, make love under the flickering light of a fireplace, upon a thick blanket littered with cushions situated before the hearth. Hannibal would cook them exotic dishes and they would take turns feeding the other.

Another sigh, and Will walked into the hallway to stand before the closet door. The thumping sounds of the struggling man on the other side was louder here. The chair he was tied to rocked incessantly as he tried to pull his limbs from their bindings. 

“Stop,” Will shouted, and miraculously, the loud sounds did -for a time.

Then they started up again, filling the silence left over after Will had spoken.

Will leaned his forehead against the door just to feel it shudder. 

_What do I do?_

****

Hannibal guided Winston into another vehicle, and he hit the pedal almost aggressively and started down the road at a faster pace than he had dared on the way there. He maneuvered the car between stalled vans and trucks and hybrids, dodged leaning, useless electric poles when he had to drive off of the road. The sun was bright and bitter, and more than once he found himself squinting in it, too focused on the road before him to draw down the protector and shade his vision. His heart hadn’t stopped thumping loud and quick since Charly had spoken about Will. 

He had run down a list of possibilities in his mind, eventually stopping at Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Had Will ventured into the shed, curiosity beating out boredom in the long days without Hannibal? The doctor wasn’t a fool, he knew that Will missed him just as much as he missed the younger man. A physical ache that put pressure upon his lungs, heavy over his heart. It would lift only when he arrived home.

Days passed. 

Winston was a furry ball of anxiety. They had both run out of food by the time they walked the last stretch of woods. When the familiar shape of his safehouse rose out of the trees, Hannibal let out a loud sigh and picked up the pace. The door opened easily, swinging in and squealing on dry hinges.

Early evening sun poked through drawn blinds sparingly. The entryway and den were completely emptied. No sniffling noses and raised tails to greet Hannibal and their brother. Hannibal’s heart skipped a beat painfully as he strode down the familiar hallway towards the bedroom, where the door was shut and locked when he reached it. 

“Will?” he called, perhaps louder than he intended as he rattled the knob of the door. 

Something jingled inside. A yip answered his next call, one of the dogs answering him in their master’s stead. Winston tilted his head and barked once in response. 

“Will, my love?” Hannibal tried again.

This time, a tired groan met his questioning words. A thump sounded, and then the lock on the door clicked. Hannibal wasted no time in opening the door then, baring to him the sight of Will, hair disheveled and eyes blinking sleepily. He wore nothing but a pair of Hannibal’s pajama bottoms, torn from the wardrobe’s drawers much like the rest of his clothes. Hannibal caught the sight of the bed, piled high with his shirts and pants, and -he realized with a tiny twitch of his lips- the rest of the dogs.

“Hannibal?” Will asked uncertainly.

A large hand resting on a feverish forehead let Hannibal know that his darling Will had succumbed to his sickness once more. It hadn’t left, merely held at bay over time with medication and care. It was a miracle that his brain hadn’t burnt itself into mush already. Hannibal easily gathered the smaller man into his arms and delivered him once more to the bed. The dogs moved out of his way when he climbed onto it to hold onto Will tightly, glad enough that he was safe if not as healthy as he left him.

A floorboard squeaked, drawing Hannibal’s attention to the doorway he had just entered. Abigail peeked in shyly, wide eyes flitting between them.

“He wouldn’t eat,” she whispered. “I kept trying. It was hard enough to get him to drink.”

Hannibal frowned at the head of curly hair resting heavily on his chest. He gathered limp limbs ever closer and wrapped him close and tight. To Abigail, he nodded once.

“My dad is in the closet,” she supplied before disappearing.

 _So he lives_ , Hannibal considered. 

He should have known that Will wouldn’t kill without him, or at all perhaps. A small part of him had wished that he would, however. If not for Hannibal, then certainly for himself, in defense perhaps. It was then that Hannibal noticed the fading bruises wrapped around his lover’s neck, skin yellowed and pale. He could easily imagine the blemishes as they had been, brown and purple, skin raised in small bumps around the indents of long, strong fingers. 

Garrett was unfortunate enough to still be alive, Hannibal decided. But he would deal with the man later. 

Winston curled in a ball close, licking at one of Will’s hands affectionately, hoping to help him in his own doggish way. His siblings lay about the large bed with sluggishly wagging tails, dark eyes blinking slowly at Hannibal and Will, who slept peacefully atop him. 

****

Will dreamt that he was being choked once more. He was in Wolf Trap, Virginia, in the kitchen; this one smaller, no longer familiar, not _home_. Large hands squeezed his neck, wrapping easily around his throat, and he stared up into maroon eyes and snarling, sharp teeth.

Hannibal’s grip tightened, and Will’s eyes widened until they hurt. His breath was cut off entirely, and he couldn’t stop the beating of his heart as it raced faster and faster, pounding in his ears and his head. A galloping herd of horses thundered behind his temples, and he squeezed his eyes tight as his life began to slip away from his grasp.

“Will,” Hannibal hissed, standing close, fingers cruel and sharp as they stole his life.

Will’s body shook violently as his hands scrabbled uselessly at the powerful chest before him. Hannibal’s bare forearms bulged with muscles, his eyes shone bright, demonic red glaring down into Will’s very soul. He only realized that he had reopened his own when he saw the devil looking down at him with a sneer. 

“ _Will_!” the monster roared. “ _Wake up!_ ”

And he did, body quivering, sweat pouring down his face, between his eyes. He struggled to disentangle himself from the body pinning him to the bed, striking at what he could reach and growling as he was held down almost effortlessly. His mind reeled, still partially caught up in the nightmare that had his entire body ready to fight for his life. The tension ebbed out of him slowly, and only when he realized that Hannibal stared down at him not with red, glowing eyes, but sincerely concerned brown, the maroon tint dulled in the light from the nearby lamp. The familiar loud growl of the generator rumbled from outside, and here, in this room, Hannibal held him, returned to him as promised, strong arms holding him tenderly and not violently, hands brushing through his hair and stroking his cheek, not grasping around his throat to throttle him.

“Hannibal?” he asked.

“Yes, dear boy,” Hannibal kissed his forehead and eased onto the bed next to him.

Will’s heart calmed, and he reached out to cup Hannibal’s cheek in one clammy hand. He stroked his thumb under dark brown eyes. In his arms rested not a demon, but the man that he loved with all of his heart.


	40. Varnish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal’s hands clasped at him tightly, and he pressed open-mouthed kisses along Will’s neck, nipping gently at his ear and then drawing away to capture pink lips in a gentle dance of teeth and tongue. 
> 
> “My dear,” he breathed into Will’s mouth. “How you continue to surprise me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW. And with that, we are done!
> 
> I'm so very happy to say that I stuck through this and finished it! I know it wasn't an au many were too excited to join me on, but you did anyway and I'M SO FUCKING GRATEFUL. And a little emotional. I honestly wanted to give up on this story so many times over the last year, but I stuck with it and I finished it and I owe each and every single one of you who read it, kudos'd, glanced at it, commented-- OH MY HEART. I seriously love you all so very very much ♥
> 
> THANK YOU.
> 
> Not beta read<3 I'm so excited, you'll probably find a lot of mistakes. When I have calmed down, I will give it a read over and fix it up if I feel it needs it. But for now, GOODBYE :) 
> 
> *hugs and flails for all*

Three days passed. Will slumbered and dreamt about the man in the closet, and sometimes about Hannibal, holding him close and whispering into his hair. It became difficult to tell whether or not the former or the latter were parts of his waking life or not, because often he thought he would wake up and the walls would be bleeding, decorations and paintings melting into a puddle of gross colors, like water raining down a pipe to wash away the detritus of this nightmare landscape.

And then he woke up, truly and fully, his eyes blinking open, vision clearer than it had been for longer than he could remember. The spot next to him was warm but empty, the scent of Hannibal still lingering comfortingly. Their bedroom was warmed by the crackling flames in the fireplace, throwing dancing shadows around the darkened room. As per his sleepy requests, those Will barely had a recollection of, Hannibal had kept the blinds pulled tight, only slim cracks of light peeking in from the late morning outside. Time felt solid and real in his grasp for once, and his feet were steady when he climbed out of the spacious bed. One sniff told him that breakfast was sizzling on the stove. 

“You’re awake,” Hannibal remarked, a tiny smile pulling at his lips. “Sit. Breakfast will be finished momentarily.”

Will obeyed, shuffling over to the island and sitting on one of the stools. His body was lax, rested and only slightly chilly. He had forgotten to don a robe on his way out, and so he sat waiting for breakfast in a pair of loose pajama pants. A thin sheen of sweat was drying over his chest and the back of his neck, and his messy hair fell into his eyes. 

_I must look like garbage_ , he surmised with a yawn.

Hannibal took three plates down from a cupboard and set them on the island before Will. The food he piled onto the dishes resembled nothing of the gourmet meals the man used to make and present with flourish. It was food, though, and that’s all that mattered to Will, famished as he suddenly realized he was. He could barely wait for Hannibal to fetch Abigail from her room and lead them all to the dining room table to dig in. Every bite brought a moan to his lips and a decidedly impolite smacking sound as he devoured everything on his plate faster than he could ever recall eating anything in his life. Afterwards, he sat back and patted his belly, pleased.

“Perhaps you’d like more,” Hannibal suggested with a smirk, fondly watching Will with warm brown eyes.

“I’m good,” the younger man peered at his dear friend sitting at the head of the table. 

Abigail eyed them both, still slightly nervous around them. She was safe and fed, and the monster that had ruled her life lay in the shed once more, secured far more tightly than before. She had followed Hannibal when he returned her father to his prison, hands buried in her pockets as her heart jumped in her throat. Garrett’s wide, frightened eyes were glued on her face even when the door was swung shut and was locked tight. The smashed window, high up on the other side was covered with sheets of dirty wood, layered and affording the one within no sunlight. 

“Drink,” Hannibal’s words interrupted her musings, and she smiled tentatively at her new -friends? Family?

She could only hope.

For his part, Hannibal could smell the difference in Will’s health easily. The fevered sweetness persisted no longer, rest and water and perseverance having bested the illness. Hannibal’s efforts had paid off in the end, just barely staving off the worst of it all. Will’s brain would be fine, just as the rest of him would be. And with affection in his command, he pushed the tall glass of water on his beloved, watching him sternly until he drank every last drop. 

He spared a wink for Abigail, whose anxiety he could smell in the air, bittersweet and mingling with the food. It appeared to relieve her a bit, and her shoulders eased from their tense position under her ears.

“Perhaps we should journey outside together today,” Hannibal suggested as he began to clean up the dishes. “Bring the dogs, of course.”

Will was rubbing at his stubbled face with some amount of irritation. Hannibal had planned to help him cut it later that night, but wondered if he should offer before his suggested trip outside.

“That sounds nice,” Will met his eyes, bright and blue and softening as he looked up at Hannibal.

The sight of his scruffy boy had Hannibal’s heart skipping a beat, something that had been occurring more often lately. Foreign even still and yet wholly accepted. 

****

The dogs were more than happy to prance and jump, wrestling in the grass. Winston led the party of humans and animals, tail high and wagging as he sniffed out a path for them. His brown eyes winked slowly at his master as he paused to let them catch up, and he was rewarded with ear scritches from all three of the humans.

Will couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as they walked slowly down a beaten path in the woods. Abigail slowly began to come out of her shell, running ahead with the smaller dogs and clapping her hands at them. The playful roughhousing extended to include her quickly, and she squealed as the wave of fur and cold noses took her down. It was an amusing sight, peaceful and so _normal_ that Will’s heart ached for a moment. Then he tightened his fingers around Hannibal’s hand and it passed at the returning squeeze that sent tingles up his arm. 

Their walk took them around the house’s perimeter, finally bringing them home by way of the backyard. 

The positive air suffusing Will’s very step deflated as they passed the shed. Inside, he knew Abigail’s father waited, his fate uncertain. He stopped, pulling Hannibal’s arm short. The older man stilled, eyeing him with slightly narrowed eyes. Up ahead, Abigail’s smile had faded, and she watched them for a long minute before disappearing inside with the dogs. 

Her father had been dead to her for a very long time already.

“Will?” Hannibal asked carefully -he longed for the toothy smile to return.

“Yeah,” Will acknowledged the questioning glance, turning away to eye the shed, suddenly so imposing.

Inside, the man who had nearly killed him was tied to a table. After the attack, he had wandered into the shed, unlocking the heavy door and taking in the surroundings within. Bile had risen in the back of his throat quickly, and he had left, hands shaking. Now, however, he steeled himself.

“I don’t want any part of the killing,” he said, softly. “But I won’t stop you.”

Hannibal said nothing for a long time.

“This part of me,” he started. “You-”

“I can’t say that I will ever accept it,” Will interrupted. “But it's you, not just a part. And I love all of you.”

Blue eyes blinked at him wetly as Will turned towards him. He stepped closer, into Hannibal’s arms, and wrapped his own around the man’s body, burying his head against a strong shoulder. Hannibal’s hands clasped at him tightly, and he pressed open-mouthed kisses along Will’s neck, nipping gently at his ear and then drawing away to capture pink lips in a gentle dance of teeth and tongue. 

“My dear,” he breathed into Will’s mouth. “How you continue to surprise me.”

Will smirked, brow furrowed and obviously still nervous about the subject they found themselves discussing. His capacity to take Hannibal as he was had the older man pulling him close once more, embracing him tightly and whispering words into his hair in languages unknown. 

They returned to the house, and Will took Hannibal to bed with him, body still weakened, shivering from the exertion of the walk. That was remedied in no time -strong arms held a smaller body atop of hairy, broad chest, blankets pulled over pale shoulders and tucked around blushing cheeks. Naked, both men fell asleep together, wrapped up and secure, hearts beating in tandem. 

Another night passed. And another.

****

The generator slowly clicked and rumbled into silence.

Hannibal opened the shed door with a purposely ominous creak. He wore a plain black ensemble, sweats and a long-sleeved shirt. His booted feet thumped on the floor as he approached the prone man tied painfully tight to the metal table. The strap holding Garrett’s head down prevented him from seeing death clearly, but soon red eyes were looking down at him in the pale light coming through the opened door. 

“Hello,” the monster greeted him.

Garrett’s nostrils flared, eyes wide and showing true fear. No longer did the lingering thought of his daughter’s face sink to the forefront of his brain. Her wide eyes had heralded the last time he would see her as the door shut, and while that thought had raced around his mind for however long he had been here -again-, now it was all gone. All that remained were narrowed, piercing eyes, red, so red, like blood and fire, sharp teeth bared in a wolf’s snarl. 

His death was not slow.

Hannibal’s penchant for torture fled as he recalled the bruises on Will’s throat. They were gone now, only a shadow left where pale skin had been marred. What was left to him in the dust of his anger, his control gone to the wind, was a husk of a man, throat gushing blood from where it had been torn out. He spit the chunk of unworthy flesh onto the floor, and snapped Garrett’s neck for the pleasure of it. The cracking of bones filled him as if it were music, burrowing into his ears and causing him to sigh longingly, relieved. Messy, blood staining his teeth and his lips and his cheek, Hannibal worked on preparing the rest of the meat quickly and methodically.

Will would not join him, he accepted. Perhaps in the future -he held no expectation, though; so long as Will stayed, he would never push the subject. Regardless, the man he loved would embrace him when he returned, the thing inside of him sated and locked down. Will would kiss his mouth and his eyelids, drag his tongue down his cheek and neck and chest, nuzzling into his chest hair like a kitten. 

And Hannibal would take it all like the most precious of gifts.

****

That morning, there was a distinct chill in the air. Will ascertained that it must be October by now, perhaps half way into the month. He had no way to be certain -it could be August for all he knew, fall clawing its way forth, or perhaps early November. Did it matter?

It was just another day.

Another week.

Rinse and repeat. Days and nights of domesticity, of scavenging in slowly widening circles, hunting for food when that became unsustainable. As the generator ran out of fuel, and as the cars on the roads stopped yielding gas the farther they went out, all that began to matter was the warm body lying next to him at night.

Waking up with Hannibal was worth the harrowing uncertainty of their futures. 

Like a family, they lived on, Abigail the surrogate daughter neither had expected to attain. Despite it all, Will could smile at night, even as he grew hungry, giving his portion to his dogs as the game in the forest became scant. Hannibal grew listless and snappy eventually. His inability to provide ground his nerves into a pile of ashes. 

Another week.

And then, one morning brought with it a rising sun, and the lamps switching on. The radio in the kitchen blared, and Will woke with a gasp. Had Hannibal found more fuel? But no, it was quiet outside, it was quiet in here other than the radio. 

“ _...food, water, and shelter- set up in the east and west_ ,” the tinny voice spoke with authority. “ _Again, this is-”_

_Will jumped out of bed, rousing Hannibal, who sat up with bunched muscles, ready to spring into action. Instead, he found Will standing with his hands buried in his hair, a huge smile on his face. Slowly, the doctor noticed the lamps, the light on overhead, in the hallway, and the voice on the radio, impossibly loud in the stillness. A door slammed open with a bang, and Abigail raced into the room in her pajamas._

_“Do you hear that?” she exclaimed loudly._

_“Yeah, the announcement,” Will smiled toothily._

_“No,” Hannibal’s eyes looked upwards, as if he could see through the ceiling and into the sky._

_Growing louder, the rhythmic sound of the helicopter filled their ears. In disbelief, they stared at each other, Will and Abigail veritably shivering with excitement._

_Hannibal got out of bed and drew them both close as the dogs rushed in barking and yipping around their humans._

_Another day, another life, another chance._

_“I love you, Will,” he pressed the words into Will’s hair like a prayer._

_“I love you too, Hannibal,” Will breathed shakily._

__So much._ _

_****_

_Charly sat outside the dilapidated house, whittling at a piece of wood. Today was a good day, he knew, even before he saw the helicopter cutting through the sky. It was cold out, and he wore a heavy sweater as he sat on the front steps of his grandpa’s old home. He worked at the wood in his hand tirelessly, small knife cutting and smoothing, shaping and dusting off chips onto the ground between his feet._

_Slowly, a dog formed, crooked and ugly, corners too sharp and ears jagged. Four feet were rounded as best as he could manage, until he was satisfied with the curl of a tail despite how awful it looked, and he set it on the step next to him. Then he sat back and watched the sky, the dot of the disappearing military copter, and a smile stretched over his face, droopy eyes squinting as laugh lines crinkled along his face. With a single laugh, he stood and walked into the house, leaving the tiny wooden dog on the step._

_Inside, his last can of soup sat on the counter, unopened and waiting._


End file.
